


Kissing Santa

by epithalamium



Category: Zero Escape (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, I'm Sorry, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5342924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epithalamium/pseuds/epithalamium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Hey, old man? I asked you a question.'</p><p>Tenmyouji took another deep breath. 'What the fuck are you doing here, Santa?'</p><p>The choice of the name was deliberate, and Tenmyouji felt a vague sense of satisfaction in seeing the man pale, hearing the sharp intake of breath.</p><p>[Spoilers for 999, VLR, and ZTD. Tenmyouji/Santa btw.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's probably one person (aside from me) who played VLR and thought, 'Hey, where my Tenmyouji/Santa fics at?' and I want to say that I got you covered, man. I won't bet anything on the chances of this theoretical person existing, but the internet is a weird place. 
> 
> I'd like to thank [electric016](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electric016/pseuds/electric016) for the beta and for not judging my life choices. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Aftermath of the Nonary Game and Tenmyouji felt as if he’d left something behind in Rhizome 9. He’d been through similar situations in the past: the same concepts with different executions, and he hoped this was the last one. A body could get used to anything, but this he could do without. He felt unanchored, like waking up to realise he couldn't remember his own name: nothing life threatening, but it still gave him a vague feeling of discomfort.

He wondered if this was what closure meant, but he doubted he'd recognise closure if it waddled up to him and bit him in the arse. 

'Grandpa?' Quark hid a yawn behind a small hand.

Tenmyouji nodded, frowning at the thin slice of light visible from under the door of their flat.

‘What is it?' Quark sidled closer to Tenmyouji. He was too tired and sleepy to fully understand what was going on, but cautious nevertheless. One didn't survive the Nonary Game without learning a thing or two and Quark--out of necessity--was smart for his age.

Tenmyouji didn't answer, one hand resting on Quark's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. In the pocket of his trousers, his other hand tightened around the keys Akane had returned him before he and Quark had gone back to earth.

Unvoiced questions had lain heavy in his stomach, but he'd said nothing. And she'd offered him nothing more than a sad smile.

Taking the keys out of his pocket now, Tenmyouji wondered if he should have at least said goodbye.

The door opened before Tenmyouji could touch the knob, light spilling from inside the flat and Tenmyouji squinted against the brightness. He could make out the silhouette of a slim figure standing by the threshold and he had no idea who the hell it could be. His mind, tired as it was, tried to go through the possibilities. 

The neighbours wouldn’t have barged inside Tenmyouji’s flat while he wasn’t there; he had three sturdy locks on the door, but it was also an issue of mutual respect. They wouldn’t want to start a precedent in which _their_ privacy could be invaded. In an emergency they would have stayed outside and left a note. 

Zero was done with them, Tenmyouji was sure of that. He’d left all of that behind and everyone he’d known in the past was either dead or unreachable. 

Was this a thief then? Someone who had broken Tenmyouji’s complicated system of locks and possibly dangerous. Tenmyouji pulled Quark back, hoping the kid would have the sense to run away if things got serious. 

'Who the fuck are you?' The voice was irritable, confused, and impossibly familiar. A fragment of the past after all, something Tenmyouji thought he'd lost and wasn't--couldn't--be prepared for. He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to step back into the shadows of the hallway.

Quark felt no such cowardly compulsions. 'What are you doing in our house?' he said, stepping forward so he was standing next to Tenmyouji again. 

Not a projection of Tenmyouji's mind then; no apparition caused by the lingering traces of Radical-6 in his body or a side effect of the antidote. Not when Quark could see him too, Quark frowning at the man as if he were another puzzle that needed to be solved.

'Your house?' said the man.

'Mine and Grandpa's!' Sulkiness in Quark's tone now, childish impatience for this obstacle between him and a good night's sleep.

'Quark,' said Tenmyouji, hand tightening on Quark's shoulder. 'Let's go inside. You're dead on your feet.'

The man stepped aside to let them through, offering no defence or explanation for his presence. Tenmyouji was sure, he could feel the man's gaze on him and Quark although he couldn't check--not if it meant meeting the man's eyes--Tenmyouji was sure they were being scrutinised, and judged as harmless.

'Hey,' said the man, as Tenmyouji straightened up from removing his shoes. He realised that until then the man had only seen glimpses of his face, the darkness outside making for an effective mask. But the same light that had betrayed the man's presence inside the flat did the same for Tenmyouji's face now. He tried not to flinch as the man stepped closer, head tilted to one side and his eyes narrowed.

'You look familiar.'

'Go to bed, Quark,' said Tenmyouji. 'You need to rest.'

'But--'

'I'll take care of it.' Tenmyouji sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Take care of it, he thought, and he still couldn't meet the man's eyes.

'Do you know this man, Grandpa?'

The man folded his arms over his chest and nodded in Quark's direction. 'Well?' he said. 'Do you know me?'

'In the Biblical sense?' said Tenmyouji. This made Quark frown, but the man gave a surprised little laugh, like it was the last thing he expected to hear from a dried-up old man. Tenmyouji found himself getting red in the face. Feeling like a teenager again wasn't a bad thing in his book, but this wasn't the sort of experience he was aiming for.

'I don't think,' said the man, still smiling, 'that's something I'd forget.’

'Guess not,' said Tenmyouji, thinking of what the man had said earlier: You look familiar. How could he, when he couldn't see Junpei in himself anymore? The face in the mirror when he shaved every morning--with its wrinkles and soft planes and angles--was the face of an old man. Tenmyouji's face. He was finding it harder to remember what Junpei looked like.

'Hey, old man? I asked you a question.'

Tenmyouji took another deep breath. 'What the fuck are you doing here, Santa?'

The choice of the name was deliberate and Tenmyouji felt a vague sense of satisfaction in seeing the man pale, hearing the sharp intake of breath.

Quark fidgeted beside him. Tenmyouji had always made a point not to curse in front of Quark; easier said than done in the tense, back-stabbing environment of Rhizome 9 but he’d managed it. Hearing him say ‘fuck’ now surprised Quark as much as the stranger’s presence in their flat. As if to apologise, Tenmyouji gave Quark a pat on the shoulder.

But Aoi wasn't paying attention, had stepped so close to Tenmyouji it was positively an invasion of privacy. And as if that wasn't enough, he was _touching_ Tenmyouji, cool fingers on Tenmyouji's face, pulling him down as if for a kiss.

'Junpei?' said Aoi.

*

He'd promised Aoi they would talk later. For now, Quark needed to go to bed.

'But who's that guy, Grandpa?' said Quark, blinking at Tenmyouji from under the sheets that Tenmyouji had tucked around him. Quark was a restless sleeper and the sheets would like as not end up on the floor come morning, but it was the principle of the thing. 'Grandpa?'

Tenmyouji found himself blushing for the second time that night. Not a good habit to pick up; Aoi would never let him live it down.

'He's no one,' he said. 'A friend.'

Quark grinned. 'Your _boy_ friend, you mean?'

Tenmyouji wondered about that. Had Aoi been Junpei's boyfriend? They'd never talked about it. 'Of course not.'

'He was going to kiss you!' said Quark, indignantly.

'But he didn't,' said Tenmyouji, moving away from Quark's bed and heading for the door. 'I'm going to turn off the lights now, okay?' Quark didn't say anything and Tenmyouji sighed. 'I don't think he was going to do anything of the sort. He just wanted to get a good look at my face.'

'Because he wanted to kiss you.'

Great. He'd be wondering all night if Aoi did want to kiss him. Tenmyouji was sure Aoi didn't or he would have already, never mind Quark ogling at them like people in TV dramas. But while Quark was quick to tease him about his ‘crushes’--which were no more than idle aesthetic appreciation (Tenmyouji was too old to have crushes, thanks very much), Quark had never said anything about the reverse before. Granted, Tenmyouji has never been a looker, not even as a young man. With Aoi it had been mostly luck and convenience. 

‘Good night, Quark.'

'Don't forget to brush your teeth, Grandpa.'

'Good _night_.'

*

'What fucking year is it?' said Aoi, raising his eyebrow at the mug of tea Tenmyouji had set on the table in front of him. 'Did you just re-use that teabag?'

'Tea's hard to come by nowadays,' said Tenmyouji, sitting across Aoi and taking a sip from his own mug. The tea was no more than coloured water at this point, but he could still smell the faint scent of chamomile. 'Nearly everything's hard to come by these days.'

'What year, Junpei?'

He wasn't used to being called by that name. It's been a long time. There was Akane back in the moon base and Clover, who had echoed Akane in surprise and disbelief. But he'd never thought he'd hear Aoi call him _anything_ again.

'Junpei?' Aoi's voice had lost the sharpness of impatience and Tenmyouji looked up by instinct; met Aoi's gaze for a brief moment, a fraction of a second before breaking eye contact. He didn't want to see the pity in Aoi's eyes; a pretty young man feeling bad for an old fart. And here Quark thought Aoi wanted to kiss him. The idea made Tenmyouji want to laugh, except Aoi would just wonder what was so fucking funny and get more pissed off.

Tenmyouji placed his mug back on the table and before Aoi could prompt him again said, ‘It’s 2074.’

'Fuck.' Aoi leaned away from the table, away from Tenmyouji, jumping when the back of his chair almost gave way.

'Careful. That chair's a bit wonky. Quark and I found a whole dining set in an abandoned house not far from here--'

'About that,' Aoi cut in. 'What's the deal with the kid? He your son?’ He frowned and waved that away. ‘Bit young for that, isn't he--grandson then?'

'Grandson, yes.'

'You got _married_?' Pardonable surprise on Aoi's face. And because it had been a long day--long week, long life, whatever--Tenmyouji allowed himself to imagine there'd been resentment in Aoi's expression as well; the downward set to his mouth and the narrow-eyed look he gave Tenmyouji. 'To a foreigner?'

'No. I found him. We're not related by blood.' Tenmyouji shrugged. 'It doesn't matter. He's my grandson.'

'I see.' Aoi smiled. 'Guess no one else'd have you, huh.'

'Not really,' said Tenmyouji, smiling back in spite of himself. 'Damaged goods. The last time didn't go too well.'

'You think?' Aoi finally took a sip from his mug. Nothing in his face betrayed what he thought of the watery tea, but knowing what a snob he could be, Tenmyouji was sure Aoi was judging a lot of things about it.

'What are you doing here, Aoi?'

'I woke up in this pod thing.' Aoi made a rectangular movement with his hands. 'And she gave me this address. Just the fucking address, mind you. No idea what's going on, but it was better than staying there to rot, so I legged it.'

'Gave?' Tenmyouji raised an eyebrow. 'Was she there when you woke up?'

'After what happened last time? No fucking way.' Aoi tapped a finger against one temple. 'Esper, remember?'

Years ago Junpei would never have dared, but now Tenmyouji reached across the table to cover Aoi's hand with his own. The gesture was something Junpei would never have been able to afford nor Aoi reciprocate, but too much time had passed for Tenmyouji to care about the boundaries they'd set between themselves as young men.

For a moment he thought Aoi would pull away, he was expecting Aoi to pull away, but Aoi looked at Tenmyouji's hand as if he had no idea how it got there, traces of his frown lingering between his eyebrows.

'You're different,' he said.

'Well yeah.' Tenmyouji laughed. 'I'm _old_.'

'Hm,' said Aoi. He did pull away this time, hand moving on top of Tenmyouji's so he could trace the veins and wrinkles on the back of Tenmyouji's hand with his fingertips. 'Is that the polite way of saying you're tired and can I bugger off?'

'I never bothered being polite with you,' said Tenmyouji, reclaiming his hand and stuffing it inside the pocket of his trousers. 'And I sure as hell won't start now, kid.'

'You know technically I'm still older than you, right?'

'I'm sixty eight, kid. You're twenty five. You do the maths.' It was weird, but Tenmyouji had no intention of telling Aoi that. He'd felt the same when he'd seen Clover back in the moon base: she hadn't changed much from the girl she'd been when they first met. But this was Aoi, and Tenmyouji had never expected to see Aoi again.

'Don't call me that,' said Aoi. 'You might look like an old prune now but you're still just Junpei. Don't put on fucking airs.'

Tenmyouji scratched the back of his head. 'I thought you said I've changed.'

'A changed Junpei is still Junpei.' Aoi bared his teeth in what Tenmyouji was very reluctant to call a smile. 'You'd still wag your tail and get off your old rump if she said “Jump” wouldn't you?'

'What's the view like in your glass house?' said Tenmyouji, trying to keep his voice light. Four decades and he'd almost forgotten how easily Aoi could get under his skin; time and loneliness painting his memories of Aoi a rosy hue that had little to do with the prickly bastard smirking at Tenmyouji right now.

'Right,' said Aoi, throwing his hands up in the air. 'Cranky ol' gramps needs to sleep his bad temper off.'

'Whatever,' said Tenmyouji, standing up. 'Good night, Aoi.'

*

It was past midnight when he felt someone pushing him to one side of the bed, all but rolling him down against the wall.

'Budge over.'

'Fuck off.' Tenmyouji pulled the sheets over his head, wondering why he hadn't locked the door to his room when he had the chance. Not that a lock would have stopped Aoi; he would just climb up from outside the building and break into Tenmyouji's flat through the window. Tenmyouji had lost count of all the times Aoi had pulled shit like that in the past and now he's back and looking like he's damned set on making Tenmyouji's life as miserable as possible again.

'C'mon,' said Aoi, voice softening. Ah, the Kurashikis. They always knew how to get what they wanted from people, even the ones that didn't like them very much. 'You're not making me sleep on that mangy old sofa.'

'You're welcome to the floor,' Tenmyouji suggested.

'Dude, I like it rough, but not that rough.' There was a pause, and then Aoi said, 'Junpei.'

Tenmyouji made a growling noise at the back of his throat, but he pulled the covers off his head as he scooted over to one side of the bed.

'Fuck you and your progeny.'

'Big words,' said Aoi, smirking as he made himself comfortable on the bed beside Tenmyouji. 'You think they mean shit?'

'What do you mean?' There was only one pillow on the bed and Aoi ignored that in favour of Tenmyouji's shoulder. Tenmyouji was sure he's going to wake up later half-choked and his circulation cut off, but that was Aoi for you. There was something almost cat-like about his happy disregard for other people's comfort in relation to his own.

'It's weird, sleeping off four decades, yeah? You kinda wonder what it does to your body.'

'They call it Cells Alive System for a reason, you know,' said Tenmyouji. 'Pretty sure everything's still in working order, or she'd never have risked you and the others.'

'Maybe,' said Aoi. 'Or maybe she weighs risks different from you, ever thought that?'

Tenmyouji didn't answer, but he did move so he could press his lips on the top of Aoi's head. Aoi hadn't bothered styling his hair, silvery strands soft and free of the usual sticky products. He also must have been using Quark's shampoo; something that smelled faintly of bubblegum. Innocent scent that didn’t fit Aoi’s image at all and made Tenmyouji smile.

Tenmyouji shouldn't have done this, like Aoi shouldn't be cuddling against him now, but habits were hard to break. Even ones that have fallen into forty years of disuse.

'How was she?'

'How'd you know?' Tenmyouji felt the annoyed rush of Aoi's breath against his neck before Aoi started poking him in the ribs. 'Stop that. Yeah, all right. Esper. I get it.'

'I'm nothing like her,' said Aoi. 'Or even you. But I'm pretty good at receiving information. You're harder to read, but that kid's emotions are all over the place.'

Tenmyouji almost sat up at that, Aoi making an irritated sound at this sudden shift in position and pushing Tenmyouji back on the bed. 'You mean Quark's--?'

'Nah. A bit, I guess. Not enough for it to matter,' said Aoi. 'Normally people can't access the morphogenetic field, yeah? Not in the way espers do. Some people are born with that ability, while some--well, their lives get shook up enough it just happens. Like with you. The kid's kinda similar. Emotions get strong enough and it's bound to leave a mark, no matter if you're an esper or not.'

Of course. And it was because of him that Quark experienced what he did in Rhizome 9. Tenmyouji bit his lower lip, physical tic that would make it easier for Aoi to pick up on what he was thinking, but he was sure Aoi wouldn't mention it. All those years and the words Aoi could have said that would cut deep, except he never did.

'Junpei?'

'She's doing fine,' said Tenmyouji. 'I don't know what I expected, to be honest. When Zero asked me to come to the moon, saying it was my chance to see her again, I agreed without thinking twice about it. Now that it's all over I'm not so sure.'

'Of what?'

'If I made the right decisions.' He sighed and closed his eyes. 'No, it's not that. I spent most of my life hanging on to this faint hope, and I don't even know what it means--what it meant. I might have changed too much. Or not enough.'

Aoi said nothing. Tenmyouji could feel Aoi playing with one of the buttons on his shirt, the silence between them stretching until Tenmyouji opened his eyes to meet Aoi's.

'It's never been easy,' said Aoi. 'Loving her. You know that.'

'Yeah,' said Tenmyouji. It was no more than a whisper; anything louder would have betrayed too much and although Aoi would understand, Tenmyouji didn't think it would be fair to him. Not when Akane was still keen on keeping her older brother at a distance. Tenmyouji couldn’t blame her; Aoi would have a lot of things to say if he found about Akane gambling with her own life in Rhizome 9. Not after all the effort of getting her back. 'Yeah. She's doing fine. Even had a go at playing family with Dr Klim and his son.' He laughed, although it could have also been a sigh. 'I resent that, actually. Before this I would have told you I just want her to be happy. Now? I hate that she could be happy without me.'

Aoi laughed, bobbing his head so that the top of it bumped against Tenmyouji's chin.

'Ow.'

'What do you want me to say?' said Aoi. 'That you're a lying selfish prick?'

'Maybe.'

'Okay. You're a lying selfish prick.'

'You really know how make a man feel better, don't you?'

Aoi moved so he was half-crouched over Tenmyouji, one arm braced against Tenmyouji's chest. 'You're smiling.'

Tenmyouji was. 'Because you're an idiot.'

'Junpei,' said Aoi. 'You _do_ want her to be happy. That's why it hurts.'

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine 'I saw Mummy kissing Santa Claus' playing in the background.
> 
> 18/10/2017: Hey remember when I first posted this in 2015? Back then I wasn't used to writing multi-chapter fics and I'm not going to say I was bad, but I could definitely do better. I think I'm getting better. Having a beta and actually paying attention to the structure helps a lot. 
> 
> Usually I'd just move on and leave this fic be; the faults glare at me now but it's the best I could come up with at the time. (Many thanks to Jinger for allowing me to keep the weird turns of phrases even if they could have been cut out.) But as it turns out, chapter 8 is giving me a hard time because it needs ZTD Junpei and I haven't fully reconciled him with the Junpei from this fic. I decided to go back, add and subtract some details to establish Junpei as the jaded detective we know from ZTD, and get some revising done on the weaker parts as well. 
> 
> So if you've read this before and are wondering why some things seem to have changed, that's why. 
> 
> Again thanks so much to the people who read and give feedback. You're the best! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written three and a half chapters of this fic and this is probably the only one that I'm really satisfied with. But it _is_ the chapter that I wrote this fic around, so I guess it's just fair. I still firmly believe that Tenmyouji's photo of Akane is the same one Santa was holding in 999.

Junpei was running a fever when he crossed states for what he thought was the sixth time. He tried to keep better track of where he was going, looking out for road signs and marking them on his maps, but he was tired. His eyelids felt like sandpaper and his head was pounding in time with his heart. He needed rest.

‘This is as far as I can take you,’ the truck driver told him. He said each word slowly, as if he was talking to someone simple. Had Junpei been feeling better he would have taken offence at this, but right now he didn’t give a fuck. At least it made the foreign words easier to understand; Junpei’s English wasn’t too bad, but the driver’s accent was unfamiliar and Junpei had given him more than a few blank looks when he’d tried to engage in conversation earlier. Besides, the driver _had_ been kind enough to take him across miles and miles of curious prefabricated houses for the price of a cup of bad coffee.

‘Thanks,’ said Junpei. It took him a couple of tries to get the door open and he almost lost his footing going down the steps of the truck, but he made it to the pavement somehow.

‘You okay, man?’

Junpei looked up and met the driver’s eyes. Travelling across a country that was twenty times bigger than Japan was far from the best decision he's ever made, but none of the alternatives were any better. He hadn’t expected it to be easy, but he still hadn't been prepared for the reality of it: the feeling of being cut off from everything, a loneliness that was different from being alone in a familiar place. Junpei had never thought of himself as a social person; he didn’t have any siblings and was used to keeping his own company. Yet here he was, craving for human contact. 

Maybe it was because of that or maybe because the fever made him feel like a hollowed gourd, but he found himself almost talking, telling the driver the story behind this mess. How a broke university student found himself himself travelling the world with his beat-up backpack and the memory of a smile, traces of warmth in his arms when there’s nothing there any more.

‘I’m fine,’ said Junpei.

‘Sure.’ The driver smiled but he wasn’t looking at Junpei any more, his eyes already on the road before him, and Junpei couldn’t help but think of all the places he hasn’t been yet, all the places _she_ could be and how fucking big the world was. ‘Good luck.’

‘Thanks.’

*

The mattress was no thicker than two duvets spread on top of each other and Junpei could feel the metal fittings of the bed under his back. But at least the sheets were clean and the room was cheap. He closed his eyes and he assumed it was the fever but it felt like the room was shifting, rocking as if he was on a ship.

She eluded even his dreams.

He wanted to know how she was doing, wanted to know how much she’d changed since they were both kids. He wanted to talk to her without the ticking clock, the sight of blood drying on the walls, and memories of the Ninth Man's screams tingeing every word they spoke with fear. He only wanted to hear her voice.

*

‘Wake up, fucker.’

Not exactly what he wanted, but close enough. Familiar voice and actual words Junpei didn’t need to strain to understand, no gap between what he heard and what his barely bilingual mind could comprehend. Junpei opened his eyes to see the barrel of a gun pointed at his forehead, instinct screaming at him to move-- _run!_ \--except his head was spinning and someone was sitting on his stomach and all he got for his trouble was to get the gun closer to his face, pressed now against his forehead and there was something almost comforting about the cold metal on his fever-flushed skin.

‘Hello,’ said Junpei, trying to keep his voice neutral. ‘Where’s Akane?’

‘I have a gun,’ said Santa. The room was too dark for Junpei to see his face clearly, but he sounded amused.

‘I er, noticed.’

‘No funny shit.’

Junpei felt more than saw Santa move away, the weight on his stomach lifting, heard cursing as the bed creaked. The gun left Junpei’s face and he felt comfortable enough to say, ‘Is it even loaded?’

Santa laughed. ‘What do you think?’

‘Would it kill you to actually be nice sometimes?’

‘Dude.’ Junpei felt something drop onto his chest, something thin and flat and rectangular. An envelope? He reached out, freezing halfway when he felt Santa’s hand on his forehead. ‘This is me being nice.’

‘Hm.’ Junpei brushed Santa’s hand off and reached out for the lamp he remembered being on the bedside table. The light it afforded was weak and unsteady, but better than nothing. Junpei sat up, leaning against the headboard, and after several seconds of counting his own heartbeats met Santa’s eyes.

‘Where’s Akane?’

Santa dumped what looked like a gym bag on the bed and started rummaging inside it.

‘Dunno,’ he said, throwing a smaller bag at Junpei. ‘What made you think this was a good idea? You can’t even fucking take care of yourself.’

‘What do you mean?’ Junpei opened the small bag. There was a bunch of medicine packets and first-aid stuff inside. ‘And I’m taking a rest, aren’t I? Or I might have been, if only people would stop waking me up in the middle of the night and shoving guns in my face.’

‘Shut up and take your medicine.’ Santa rubbed a hand across his face. The gesture reminded Junpei of a cat. ‘Fuck. You’re just like her. Always worrying about other people.’

‘What do you mean you don’t know?’ said Junpei. Santa was giving him a look, so he dry-swallowed an ibuprofen despite not being the sort who liked taking medicine in the first place. ‘Didn’t you fucking leave the building together?’

‘Little shit left me behind.’ Junpei opened his mouth to say something, but Santa cut him off, ‘I’ll catch up with her. _This_ is just payback.’

Junpei picked the envelope up from where it had dropped into his lap. It contained official-looking documents and what appeared to be blueprints; notes in both English and Japanese written in the margins with red ink. 'What's this?'

‘You were so cold on our trail it was fucking Arctic,' said Santa. He hesitated before sitting at the foot of Junpei's bed. 'Thought you needed a push in the right direction, is all.'

'Er,' said Junpei, trying to read one of the documents despite it being written in the worst mix of legal and scientific jargon, and the light from the lamp like something from a horror movie. 'Nice to know you care and all, but what the fuck are these exactly?'

Santa gave a snort. 'D'you need me to wipe your arse and sing you to sleep? Figure it out on your own, dude.'

Maybe it would make better sense once Junpei’s had a good night's sleep. He tucked everything back inside the envelope and put it on the bedside table. Clues were good. So was the medicine. But there was still Santa at the foot of his bed, looking at the cracks on the ceiling, and while Junpei had spent the past few months looking for the Kurashikis, he hadn't prepared for the event of meeting Aoi without Akane.

'Remember what I said about gambling?' said Santa. He didn't take his eyes off the ceiling, and because it seemed like a good place as any to rest his eyes on, Junpei followed suit. Aside from worrying cracks, there were also dark stains near the centre of it.

'I think so?' That was in the second-class cabin. The memory felt distant, though it had happened a few months ago. 

'I fucking hate losing.'

'Who doesn't?' said Junpei. His back was killing him, and Santa didn’t look like he was going to brandish his gun about again, so he lied back down the bed and pulled the covers tightly around himself. Better position for ceiling-gazing, as it were. 'What are you even fighting against?'

'Junpei,' said Santa, laughing again. There was even less humour in it this time around. 'You just changed the fate of a twelve-year-old girl and got the head of a pharmaceutical company behind bars. What are _you_ fighting against?'

Despite himself, Junpei laughed as well. 'Yeah, well. Point taken.'

Santa sighed. 'I should get going.'

He didn't move and Junpei said nothing. He found himself drifting off to sleep, the medicine doing its work, and the odd comfort of Santa's silent presence at the foot of his bed.

*

Santa was still there when he woke up. It was still dark outside, which meant Junpei hadn't slept for long but he felt better for it anyway.

'I had my men open a bank account for you,' said Santa. 'There's loose cash in the bag.' He gestured toward the gym bag he'd placed on the bed earlier. 'And some other shit you might find useful.'

'Why?'

Santa scratched the back of one ear. 'Like I said, I hate losing. I need to cover a lot of bases just in case.' He shrugged. 'You're my plan B.'

'I don't feel very effective right now, to be honest.' Junpei closed his eyes again. ‘Ever realised how big the world is?’

‘What d’you think I’ve been doing the past few months?’ It wasn’t Junpei’s imagination; Santa did sound tired. Something in his voice that echoed Junpei’s feelings and for the first time he felt some kind of empathy for the guy. ‘You can’t find her on your own.’

‘You have your men,’ Junpei pointed out.

‘I have resources,’ Santa corrected him. Junpei had no idea what the difference was and his face must have betrayed what he was thinking because Santa went on, ‘I can’t say they’re from Crash Keys.’ 

‘Oh.’ 

‘Why didn’t you join the SOIS?’

Junpei’s eyes flew open at that. ‘You know about them?’

‘’Course we do,’ said Santa, raising an eyebrow. ‘They’ve been trying to track us down, you think we’d let them slide past our radar? Figured you might work with them though; they’d love to have you around.’

‘They did ask,’ said Junpei. ‘But they were too official and hush-hush for my taste.’ 

He didn’t add that he knew the SOIS had more than a simple questioning in mind for the Kurashikis; not after what they had done. At the very least, an organisation like that would feel duty-bound to hand the siblings over to the proper authorities and Junpei wasn’t going to help them with any of that. 

Santa gave Junpei another look and Junpei was about to ask what his problem was when he said, ‘I see.’

‘You really think I could help?’

'You've helped her once before. Don't see why you can't do it again.'

Junpei didn't like where this conversation was going. 'And you?'

'Dunno.' Santa's voice was soft. 'She's never pulled shit like this before. I think she's scared.'

'Scared of what? We've saved her, haven't we? What else is there to be scared of?' Junpei sat up. In the dim and flickering light, Santa's face looked pale and drawn.

'It's all in the papers I gave you.' Santa stood up. 'She can do things we're not capable of, Junpei. She can see things; the past, the future, the what-might-have-beens. And whatever she's seen has scared her enough to leave me behind. What do you think?'

'Aoi--'

'It doesn't matter.' Santa tilted his head to one side, looking at Junpei thoughtfully. Then, as if coming to a decision, he reached inside one of the pockets of his trousers and handed Junpei a square piece of paper. 'I'll catch up with her. Failing that--' his voice trailed off, and Junpei thought Santa was going to turn away and leave when he spoke again, 'She's got you.'

'Aoi,' said Junpei, reaching out. His fingertips brushed against Santa's hand. 'Don't.'

‘Later,' said Santa, and before Junpei could react, he was picking the lamp up from the table and throwing it against the wall.

*

Either the walls were thicker than they looked or the noise from the lamp smashing against them wasn't as loud as it seemed, but no one came to break the door to Junpei's room down and demand explanations. Maybe that sort of shit happened all the time in seedy motels like the one he was staying at; that was the least of his problems.

By the time Junpei had gotten over his surprise, running out of the room and banging his shin against the door because his eyes haven't adjusted to the darkness yet, Santa was gone.

Junpei went back to his room and turned the lights on. The piece of paper Santa had given him was on the bed where he'd dropped it, and it wasn't a piece of paper after all. It was a photograph. A photograph of Akane ten years ago, smiling at the camera--at Junpei.

Junpei couldn't quite bite back a sob.

*


	3. Chapter 3

There was a stranger living in Tenmyouji’s flat.

The old man hadn’t been gone for a day--'family business' he’d told the widower next door--when this guy with silver hair and loud clothes arrived and let himself inside Tenmyouji’s flat as if the place belonged to him. He seemed to have his own key; at least the neighbours who saw him thought he did, seeing as how he didn’t have to force the door open and all. But they had to wonder what the young man was doing there, with Tenmyouji gone off heaven knows where, dragging young Quark along and not a single piece of luggage between them.

Some of the tenants thought the stranger might have something to do with the family business that Tenmyouji had mentioned, but there was no way to be sure unless they asked him outright and no one was keen on speaking to him.

Truth was, they thought he looked dangerous. Times being what they were, there was enough people out there who had secrets they’d rather keep to the past. They were all survivors after all, and there was always a price to pay for survival. The young man didn’t look like the type with a deep, dark secret though; it wasn’t as simple as that. Something about his eyes when you get close enough to notice; pale eyes like those of a trapped animal’s.

To his credit, he lied pretty low after his inauspicious arrival and it was easy enough to forget he was there. He kept to himself and the other tenants rarely saw him go out for supplies and the like. It helped that he arrived the same week the markets started stocking up on snacks and sweets again--all of it overpriced but also very comforting. Nothing like the assurance that you could get a bag of crisps from the markets whenever you want them and they all basked in the nostalgia of it. As it were, thoughts of the young man got pushed to the back of everyone’s minds until Tenmyouji came back and found his home already occupied.

It was hard to say what his neighbours had been expecting at that point. Perhaps they wanted Tenmyouji to kick the stranger out of the building and out of their lives; never mind that the young man might not have any other place to stay. They’d all gone through a lot, picking up the pieces left of their lives after the antimatter reactors blew up, and simple things like trust and kindness were as much a luxury as those bags of chips.

But days passed and Tenmyouji didn’t seem to mind this new addition to his household, because the young man stayed. The neighbours sometimes saw him going out with Quark to the markets for food and other necessities. Once, the widower next door heard the young man shouting at Tenmyouji about leaving his packed lunch behind.

‘I don’t get up at shit o’clock in the morning so you and the squirt can stuff your faces with microwaveable junk.’

The widower had been out by the verandah smoking a cigarette--one of the very few vices he still allowed himself--and someone had left the windows in Tenmyouji's flat open. That said, the widower could hear the men's voices as clearly as if they'd been arguing in front of him.

'You don't have to do that, I told you,' said Tenmyouji.

It was none of the widower's business, but it wasn't like he _wanted_ to eavesdrop in the first place. The damage was already done, so to speak, and he reckoned he might as well listen to the rest of the conversation while he was at it.

'Junpei.' There was a pause and the widower imagined the young man had taken a deep breath in order to calm himself, because his voice wasn't quite as loud when he continued, 'The last time I let you cook we had those shitty vegetable patties for a week.'

'They're easy to prepare and good for your health.' Tenmyouji's voice sounded like he was pouting. The widower tried to imagine it, but decided he preferred being able to look Tenmyouji in the eye the next time they meet.

'They still taste like shit.'

'I never said they tasted good.'

'Yeah. Because you're a shit cook. I can't believe Quark had to live with your cooking before I came along. Kid's probably traumatised and cries when he hears the word “lunch”.'

Tenmyouji laughed and said something in Japanese. The widower didn't understand a word of course, but the old man's tone made him crush his half-finished cigarette in the pot of his dead cactus and walk back to his own flat, feeling as if he'd heard something he shouldn't have.

*

Maybe this Aoi wasn’t as bad as the neighbours first thought. But they were still worried. Of course they were worried. Tenmyouji had taken Quark in as a baby, and the old man with no idea how to change diapers or prepare a formula. He seemed the sort of person you could take advantage of easily, and there was no knowing if Aoi wouldn’t up and kill the old man and Quark in their sleep before moving on to the next easy mark.

So the neighbours consulted among themselves and decided someone should warn the old man against these frightening possibilities. Tenmyouji could be stubborn, so they didn’t think he’d listen to them, but at the very least they could ask what the young man was doing in Tenmyouji’s flat in the first place. 

Florida volunteered to go. That wasn’t her real name, just the one she adopted after the Fall seeing as how that’s where she’s from. She was around the same age as Tenmyouji--maybe a few years older, but you never ask a lady about delicate things like that so no one could say for sure. There weren’t many left who’d lived through both the Radical-6 outbreak and the antimatter reactor explosions, and the rest of the tenants thought Tenmyouji would be more likely to listen to someone who’d seen the end of the world and lived to tell the tale, same as he did. It was funny, if you think about it. Kids like young Quark never knowing what it’s like when the skies weren’t red and the ecosystem wasn’t shot. But that’s how life was. They were all survivors and couldn't complain.

So there was Florida waiting for the chance to talk to the old man and getting her famous cornbread in the oven ready for the opportunity--and there was a lot to be said about Florida’s cornbread: the taste of what life was like before the Fall itself, though she has to make do with what ingredients were available to her, with the flour being coarse and mixed with dirt sometimes.

She didn’t have to wait long, since the old man took regular breaks on Sundays while Aoi and Quark went to the markets. It was a week after the neighbours had their meeting, Sunday morning and Florida heard Aoi and Quark talking as they passed by her flat on the way out of the building. Quark was asking if they could go buy chocolates and Florida heard the young man’s low laughter.

‘If you don’t tell your Grandpa.’ 

This made Florida frown. Chocolate didn’t come cheap; the price of it enough to pay for the dinner of a reasonably sized family, and knowing how the young man was spending Tenmyouji’s money wasn’t doing anything to sweeten her opinion of him.

‘He doesn’t like it if you eat too many sweets.’

‘I don’t,’ said Quark. ‘And I always eat my vegetables,’ adding, ‘If we have any.’

‘That’s good,’ said Aoi. Their voices were getting fainter, and Florida had to move closer to the door in order to hear what they were saying. ‘Junpei used to hate vegetables, you know.’

‘Really?’ Quark giggled. ‘But Grandpa likes them now, especially squash. He says they’re good for your eyes.’

‘We should buy some then,’ said Aoi. ‘If there’s any. There’s been nothing but turnips the last few weeks.’

Satisfied that they were well on their way to the exit, Florida took her cornbread out of the oven and headed for Tenmyouji’s flat.

*

‘Florida.’ Tenmyouji had never been the cheerful, hospitable sort--all the more reason why everyone was wondering at his decision to keep the young man with him--and he didn’t look very pleased with this intrusion during the one day he was supposed to be resting. ‘How can I help you?’

Florida handed him the paper bag she’d put the cornbread in. ‘Best batch I’ve made since the Fall, if I do say so myself. I thought I’d share with the neighbours.’

‘Thank you,’ said Tenmyouji, his frown easing a fraction. ‘It smells great. I’m sure Quark will love it.’

She didn’t budge when he moved as if to close the door and no matter what people say about Tenmyouji’s bad temper, he wasn’t that rude. With a sigh, he gestured her inside.

‘Would you like some tea?’ he said, closing the door behind Florida. ‘No coffee, I’m afraid. Aoi’s not too fond of the stuff.’

‘Tea would be great.’ Florida followed Tenmyouji to the kitchen, which also served as the dining area. The place didn’t look much different from what she remembered of her last (and only) visit. The posters of scantily clad women that had made her raise her eyebrows were gone, however. Perhaps Aoi the coffee-hater wasn’t a fan. Florida herself thought they were rather tacky. She had to admit it was an impressive collection, but she wasn't sure they’re the sort of things a kid of Quark’s age should see.

The kitchen was less cluttered; shelves well-stocked with food and other edibles. Florida gave an approving nod as Tenmyouji pulled out a chair for her to sit on before checking the pot on the counter.

‘How’s the young man, by the way?’

‘He’s adapting well.’ She thought she heard a trace of amusement in Tenmyouji’s voice. ‘Thanks for looking after him while I was away.’

Florida, who had been inspecting a pile of gears someone had dumped on the table, almost twisted her neck looking up at the old man. ‘Did he say that?’

‘No.’ Tenmyouji scratched the back of his head. ‘It’s just er, how do you say it? A turn of expression?’

‘Oh,’ said Florida, remembering that Tenmyouji was originally from Japan. He spoke with a faint accent still, though he had mentioned that he’d been living in the States since before the Fall. But things like that didn’t matter so much after the end of the world. Easy enough to forget not everyone shared the same cultural background when there’s precious little left of culture to begin with.

‘I hope he hasn’t been bothering you.’ Tenmyouji placed a cup of tea in front of Florida before sitting across from her. ‘Politeness has never been his strong point.’

Florida shook her head and, for lack of anything better to do, took a sip from her cup. The tea was good; definitely not the teabag sort. She wondered how much it cost.

‘No,’ said Florida. ‘He hasn’t been bothering anyone. I take it you’ve known each other for a while now?’

It was all guesswork on her end; the way Tenmyouji talked of Aoi sounded like he’d known the young man for longer than the couple months he'd been staying at the flat. 

‘Yeah,’ said Tenmyouji. ‘Before--yeah, we’ve known each other for a while now.’

‘We thought at first he was a relative of yours.’

‘Because he’s Japanese?’ Tenmyouji laughed softly. ‘No. He’s--he’s a friend, is all.’

‘Truth is, the neighbours are getting worried,’ said Florida, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.

The frown came back on Tenmyouji’s face. ‘They are?’

There was a hint of anger in the old man’s voice and Florida had to take a figurative step back. She'd heard rumours about Tenmyouji’s past; the kind of talk that made him out to be less innocent than he seemed and might explain his connection with someone like Aoi. Florida thought it was all baseless gossip, but she'd rather not risk getting the old man angry. 

‘It’s because of Quark.’

‘Quark hasn’t done anything bad, has he?’

‘No, no.’ Florida made a patting gesture with one hand. ‘It’s not that. We're only worried about what it might mean for Quark, having the young man here--’ knowing that she wasn’t making much sense, Florida let her voice trail off.

‘I’m sorry for worrying you,’ said Tenmyouji. ‘But that’s not necessary. I would never do anything that I know would place Quark in danger.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Not any more.’

‘Tenmyouji--’

‘What Aoi and I choose to do in private is no one’s business but our own. Quark understands that.’

It was Florida’s turn to frown. ‘Do you mean--?’

Tenmyouji shrugged. ‘Isn’t that what you were asking about?’

Florida found herself staring mutely at the old man. She never would’ve pegged Tenmyouji as the sort that swung both ways, what with his pin-ups and all. But then again, you could hardly judge a person’s sexuality based on their interior decorating skills--or lack of.

‘They’ll be back soon,’ said Tenmyouji, standing up. ‘Thank you for the cornbread.’

‘Tenmyouji.’ Florida stood up as well. She hadn't lived through one disaster after another to be caught off-guard for long by Tenmyouji’s surprisingly questionable taste in men. ‘Have you never considered this Aoi might be taking advantage of you?’

That made him laugh. ‘And here I thought you'd be worrying about it being the other way around,’ he said. ‘No one's taking advantage of anyone. Aoi needed a place to stay and Quark likes him. Good day, Florida.’

‘But how well do you actually know him?’

‘I don’t have to answer that.’ Tenmyouji rubbed at his lower lip with his index finger. He didn’t meet Florida’s eyes, but he rarely met anyone’s eyes for more than a few seconds so that didn’t mean anything. ‘But I understand you’re only worried about me and Quark. So. I’ve known him since before the Fall. There was a time when I needed a lot of help and he--’

‘Before the Fall?’ said Florida, her voice rising. ‘Are we even talking about the same person here? He’s barely older than Quark _now_.’

But she remembered Aoi talking to Quark earlier; his voice low and amused as he spoke about a Junpei who used to hate vegetables. Florida knew that was Tenmyouji’s given name, but it didn't sound like Aoi had been talking about an old man. Quite the opposite in fact; Aoi's Junpei felt like someone _younger_ than he was. 

‘Not quite,’ said Tenmyouji. The old man was good at hiding his emotions, but Florida could swear he was smiling. As if he’d read her mind and was amused with her conclusions. 

‘Tenmyouji,’ said Florida, at the same time someone from outside the kitchen yelled, ‘Hey Junpei! The squash got squashed.’

Tenmyouji’s crabby expression got crabbier. ‘What do you mean squashed?’

Florida heard the faint sounds of squabbling and giggling before Aoi started talking again, ‘We fell down a ditch.’

‘How many times have I told you,’ said Tenmyouji, heading out of the kitchen, ‘not to take that damned bike out when it breaks as soon as you look at it.’

He seemed to have forgotten Florida’s presence. For herself, Florida might not know Aoi as well as Tenmyouji said he did, but she was a good enough judge of character to know the young man wouldn’t practise the same restraint as Tenmyouji when confronted about his private life. She followed Tenmyouji as quietly as she could and hoped she could sneak away without attracting too much attention.

‘It’s my fault,’ Quark was saying. ‘I dropped the squash and lost my balance.’

‘Don’t try to protect him, Quark. He’s an adult. He can take it.’

‘Oh, I can take much more than that, Junpei.’

Florida snorted. If she'd ever thought Tenmyouji had been pulling her leg about the nature of his relationship with Aoi, the young man's tone would have destroyed her doubts entirely. She couldn't see Aoi's face but she knew flirting when she heard it. And he was damned serious about it too. 

Aoi laughed when Tenmyouji growled and said something in Japanese.

‘You like it,’ he said.

‘Is anyone hurt?’

‘Just the squash,’ said Quark, sounding more cheerful now that Tenmyouji wasn’t shouting any more. ‘We fell on top of it. Hi, Florida!’

All three turned to look at Florida, who wanted very much to jump behind what looked like a six-foot washing machine that blocked part of the hallway. Tenmyouji scratched the back of his head again, the expression on his face caught between irritation and sheepishness.

‘Excuse us,’ he said, inclining his head in a shallow bow.

‘Who’s that?’ said Aoi, raising his eyebrows at Florida from the top of the paper bag he was carrying. Despite Quark’s assurances, Florida could see deep scratches on the young man’s arms from the accident. As for Quark, there was dirt on his face, but he seemed to have pulled through without getting himself hurt.

‘Florida’s a neighbour,’ said Quark.

‘She dropped by with some cornbread,’ Tenmyouji added. ‘Don’t be rude.’

‘Florida makes the best cornbread!’ Quark smiled at Florida. ‘Thanks, Florida.’

‘No problem.’ Florida returned the smile. It was hard not to. Dirty face and all, Quark had that sort of effect on people. ‘Well, I guess I should go. Good day, Tenmyouji. Quark.’ Realising she hadn’t been properly introduced, she gave Aoi a nod.

‘I’ll see you out,’ said Tenmyouji.

Florida nodded, following Tenmyouji's lead and trying to ignore the feeling that the young man was staring daggers at her back. She didn’t turn to look if she was right, but Florida wasn’t the fanciful sort and people who'd survived the Fall had good instincts when it came to things like that.

‘I hate bread,’ said Aoi. He sounded less cheerful than he did earlier. 

‘Don’t worry, Aoi,’ said Quark. ‘We still love your cooking best. Right, Grandpa?’

Florida, who had stepped out of the flat, turned back to see Tenmyouji making a face.

‘Shut up, Squirt,’ said Aoi, pulling at Quark's hair.

‘It’s a madhouse, as you can see,’ said Tenmyouji.

Because she knew he wouldn’t take it badly, Florida laughed. ‘I’m sorry, Tenmyouji.’

He snorted. ‘Don’t be.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried writing this with a weird point of view; a Jungian 'we' kinda like a chorus in Greek tragedies but it did _not_ work. So there was a lot of re-writing in several portions and many thanks to Jinger for helping whip this up into some kind of shape!
> 
> Also, thank you guys for reading/giving kudos (all six people of you)! That's five more than I thought would even give this fic a chance. (Jinger doesn't count because she has no choice, being the beta.) :P


	4. Chapter 4

He'd lost weight; looking now like someone had tried dressing up a scarecrow in a suit they'd bought from Uniqlo. Aoi watched him from the far side of the restaurant, the gap in the wooden screens that separated the private booths from the rest of the restaurant allowing glimpses of him as he passed table to table. The way he kept looking behind him and the tense set of his shoulders made Aoi wonder if he was worried about being followed--he hadn't been, at least if one overlooked the men in Aoi's employ--or was wary of the staff who were giving him disapproving looks.

Not that Junpei looked suspicious; he knew how to blend in with the crowd and was ordinary-looking enough to be forgettable. If only he would quit acting like a newbie spy in some shitty action movie. 

Which was funny because that's what Junpei was. Not a spy, but close enough. Aoi hoped Junpei didn't act like that when he's on the job; his shady agency would never have hired him if he did. 

Then again, he'd probably never stepped foot in a fancy restaurant until he'd met Aoi, not unless it was to wash dishes in the kitchen. Too bad for him; Aoi liked dining in fancy restaurants. He liked the service and could afford it. Seeing Junpei's miserable attempts to figure out what silverware to use while trying not to stain his wrinkled suit was a recently added bonus.

The silverware problem could be solved with time and practice, but the suit was a different matter entirely. Aoi had told him more than once that rolling a suit up and cramming it in his backpack was just _not_ done, but Junpei had sulked and asked if Aoi expected him to lug a fucking garment bag all over America.

He _was_ looking less wrinkly that night, a fairly good impression ruined by him bumping against one of the tables and almost upsetting the soup plates. Aoi bit at the inside of his cheek.

'Like what you see?' said Junpei, when he got close enough to where Aoi was sitting. He grinned, the expression not quite reaching his eyes, which were bloodshot and slightly unfocused. Aoi knew he'd started drinking more heavily since he'd joined the detective agency; Junpei had the same relaxed attitude towards alcohol as most people in Japan, but Aoi also knew he'd never been much of a drinker before the kidnapping. It was worrying but he wasn't Aoi's responsibility. The least Aoi could do is make sure Junpei had something in his stomach before he started hitting the bottle.

'I've always wanted to rip the horrible clothes off your skinny arse,' said Aoi, nodding at the chair across his.

‘That's what I like to hear,' said Junpei, taking the cue and sitting himself down, although it looked more like he was pouring himself onto the chair. 'Please tell me you've already ordered for the both of us.’

Aoi shrugged. He had and he didn't care about what he ate, not when it's one more meal he wasn't sharing with her. But recently he found himself paying closer attention; looking at restaurant menus and wondering if Junpei would like salmon carpaccio and whether it would remind him of the sashimi back home. The way his eyes shone at the simplest things that Aoi took for granted: Junpei was too fucking easy to please. Aoi would never admit it, not during the selfish moments when he'd talk to her in his mind, pretending that she could hear his thoughts though he'd never been any great shakes at transmitting--he'd never admit that he liked seeing Junpei smile. Junpei wasn't _her_ and he'd never be, it wasn't a substitute that Aoi wanted. But it helped, seeing Junpei smile.

*

The first time they met again, the first time since Building Q, was a week after she left. A week since Aoi woke up to find her bed already made and her bags gone, the air in their hotel room heavy with apologies and fear.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't expected this, that he hadn't thought of the possibility of her leaving. Of course she'd leave. She'd allowed his assistance with the Nonary Game because she'd seen him from Junpei's eyes, many years ago. Now that it was over and the paradox of her existence erased, Kurashiki Akane was once again a part of the fabric of space and time-- _this_ space and time--and she was hell-bent on setting things right. Disasters that haven't happened yet, and while Aoi could see where she was coming from, he couldn't say he agreed with the logic of it.

'What for?' He'd asked her, back when they were still young and the events in Building Q no more than a vision yet, something they were still preparing for. 

'Because I can,' she said, smiling. Aoi bit at his tongue and promised the universe that he would make Cradle Pharmaceutical pay, because a girl of fourteen should not smile like that, a sad little smile burdened with thousands of memories of death and possibilities.

'But you don't have to,' he pointed out. 

'No. I owe it to the millions of lives that will be lost. It doesn't seem fair,' she said, 'that only one girl's life will be saved.' 

It had taken him four days to find Junpei; days wasted catching up on someone who hadn't been particularly hard to find. Had Aoi been feeling anything like himself he would have thought this a failure on his part, but after four days of highways and greasy diner food he was just glad to see Junpei's silly mug again.

His back-up plan set in motion, the screaming inside his head didn't seem as loud as before.

*

The next time had been after Aoi found himself locked out of the Crash Keys server. He could still access the 'public' one, the one he'd helped set up for the business front of their endeavour, but anything more than stocks and finances and he kept being re-directed to an error page. Gritting his teeth, he set about forcing his way in, wishing for a moment that he could ask Lotus for help and knowing that it wouldn't matter. If his sister wanted to keep him out of her plans, there was little he could do about it.

‘Here,’ said Junpei, handing him a small box. They were sitting side by side at the counter of some bar; Aoi already on his fourth glass of whiskey while Junpei nursed a can of beer. Aoi couldn’t remember how the fuck he’d ended up there or why Junpei was there with him. The bar seemed to have materialised around him and Junpei to have popped out of nowhere, like in a dream.

Maybe it _was_ a dream. Maybe Aoi was lying somewhere bleeding to death--he certainly felt dead enough.

He was certain he wouldn’t dream of Junpei (of all people) in the final moments of his life, though. That and he definitely won’t be holding a pack of--

‘Caramel?’ said Aoi, narrowing his eyes when his vision threatened to swim right into oblivion.

‘Morinaga’s,’ said Junpei, somewhat unnecessarily. Aoi was familiar with it; bright yellow box that he was sure everyone in Japan would recognise. But it did look incongruous here (wherever the fuck _here_ was: there were a lot of grass and open fields) like meeting someone you grew up with and almost forgotten. 

‘Where the fuck did you even get these?’

‘Dropped by an Asian market on the way and they had loads of these, dude,’ said Junpei, as if Aoi should have known this. It was a fair assumption, seeing as how Aoi had spent more time in America than Junpei, but it wasn’t like he’d had much time to spare for Asian markets or caramel.

‘Hm,’ said Aoi, pretending not to notice Junpei pouring more Coke in his glass. It pissed him off, having the kid acting all patronising because Aoi had had one drink too many, but he was also fucking tired and there was something almost comforting about having someone fussing over him like this. As if Junpei was worried about Aoi throwing his guts up later, the telly in his hotel room turned up loud so no one would hear him sobbing out his thrice-damned sister’s name.

Well, Junpei probably was worried. It wasn’t like he was doing any better.

‘How’d you get here?’ said Aoi. He was still holding the box of caramel although he made no move to take one; he hated caramel.

‘You said I couldn't find her on my own,’ said Junpei. He'd finished off his beer and was gesturing to the bartender for another. ‘So I looked around to build contacts.’

‘And somehow those contacts knew where I am?’ Aoi raised his eyebrows. He hadn't been careful about hiding his whereabouts; he hadn't thought anyone would go looking, but it still pissed him off that Junpei could find him so easily. 

‘They know people who know other people.’ Junpei shrugged. ‘You know how it goes.’

Aoi opened his mouth to call Junpei a stalker, decided that would be rich coming from someone who put Junpei under months of surveillance prior to kidnapping him, and settled for ‘I see.’

‘Let’s get something to eat,’ said Junpei. ‘I’m famished.’

‘Why?’ said Aoi. They were speaking in Japanese; he always did with Junpei--that was another comforting thing about him--and the word came out slurred and too loud, first syllable held too long in his tongue and the second one barely a breath of air.

Junpei shrugged. ‘Because dry heaving isn’t fun. Because I really am hungry, believe it or not.’ He grabbed the caramel back from Aoi and started stuffing his face with it. He didn’t stop talking. Aoi could see half-chewed caramel in his fucking maw. ‘Because we want the same thing and I don’t see why we can’t work together, you know?’

‘Don’t talk with your mouth full, asswipe,’ said Aoi.

‘Sorry, mum.’

He’d said ‘ka-chan’, which earned him a grudging smile. ‘Finish your fucking drink.’

*

It was probably a dream. Just that. A dream.

They were outside; in an alleyway. Junpei was supporting most of Aoi’s weight, and Aoi couldn’t be arsed to make it easier for him, stumbling over on his own feet more than once and pinching Junpei whenever he complained. They were lost; hard enough to navigate the strange neon-lit streets when one was sober and neither of them was quite that. Junpei was muttering a string of English curses under his breath and Aoi would have praised him for it except it took most of his concentration to keep his eyes open.

Fuck he was tired.

Junpei smelled nice.

Or: he didn’t reek of alcohol like Aoi did, not quite. He smelled of sweat, of his damned Morinaga’s caramel, and cheap soap. Aoi reached out. Junpei’s hair was soft; Aoi liked the feel of the strands of it against his fingers, tugging at the little commas he knew they made at the nape of Junpei’s neck. Junpei had stopped walking, was looking at Aoi like he was out of his mind and Aoi probably was: he was drunk and miserable, but it’s not like there was anyone there to see them.

‘Dude--’

And he was kissing Junpei--yeah, nope, Junpei was kissing him _back_. They were kissing, right in the middle of the alleyway, and Junpei’s mouth tasted like beer and caramel.

A fucking dream. Just.

*

They never kept in touch, not really. They never travelled more than a few miles with each other, and communication meant a location sent over text or email; screengrab of maps and the tacit agreement to meet. Sometimes not even that, sometimes they'd miss each other by a few days or a whole week: the world was a big place. It was hard to keep track.

Aoi liked it better that way. Junpei was already in too deep. Deeper than she would have thought safe. That was why she left, after all. Always _always_ leaving the people she cared about behind in the hopes of keeping them safe.

Junpei’s connections were useful, but the work was taking its toll on him. He seldom talked about the details of his job and Aoi never asked. He didn't want to know and Junpei's dark (and sometimes tasteless) humour hid it well, but late at night and both of them in varying degrees of intoxication, Aoi could see the cracks in Junpei's sarcastic indifference that revealed a bone-deep exhaustion.

It wasn't fair, and what Aoi was doing wasn't fair either, but Junpei was old enough to take care of himself (barely, but he hadn't gotten beaten up or killed in action and that was something). Aoi just had to make sure that when whatever she'd been trying to prevent happened, Junpei wouldn't be there for it.

*

'Thanks for the food,' said Junpei, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His manners were atrocious, but Aoi's weren't much better. Etiquette bored him. She'd be scolding the both of them, had she been there.

Well, that was just too bad.

‘That was some shit you pulled back there.’ Aoi grinned when Junpei looked up in surprise; he liked catching Junpei off guard. He hadn't put on airs even after he became a detective (Aoi would have found him unbearable if he had), but he did act as if nothing short of an Akechi Kogoro-style revelation would shock him. Considering what he'd been up to since their last meeting, Junpei was welcome to a bit of world weariness reserved for the competent, but that didn't mean Aoi was willing give him the upper hand. 

‘You know about that?’

‘Dude,’ said Aoi. ‘Crash Keys had been trying to track them down since forever.’

‘I've had help.’ Junpei shrugged. ‘You know how dogged Seven could get when he's up to something.’

‘Can't say he's alone in that,’ said Aoi, finally shifting his attention back to his plate. 

'Why are you still here,' said Junpei, after a moment of silent respect for the excellent carpaccio. At Aoi's raised eyebrow, he went on, 'Looking for her? You're Zero's assistant. You should already know where she is.'

'It's not that simple,' said Aoi. It never was, when she's concerned. 'There're hundreds of places she could be right now. But she knows I know that. She knows how to stay out of my way exactly because she knows what I already know.'

Their eyes met and Aoi braced himself for it, the words already hanging between them as if Junpei had already said them: She didn't tell you everything.

But Junpei shrugged and went back to eating. 'Better for me. At least I'm not doing this alone.'

'D'you think I'm your fucking ally in this, Junpei?' said Aoi, through bared teeth. 'You're useful, is all. If I gave two pins about you, I'd have told you to fuck off and live a normal, peaceful life.'

'How can I?' said Junpei. Aoi had to give it to the kid: he didn't sound so much bitter as thoughtful; pensive mood that didn't sit well with his usual self-effacing humour. 'You think I can go back to what I was, after that?'

We ruined your life, Aoi thought. At least, she did, and Aoi helped.

'I chose this, you know,' Junpei added. 'Well, maybe not the getting kidnapped bit. But it's not like anyone's forcing me to do anything.'

'What do you want?' said Aoi. 'Do you expect a kiss for your efforts? A fuck, maybe? You'd really go so far for a fucking girl?'

Junpei raised his eyebrows at that, small smile as if to say, 'Already have all that, don't I?' and Aoi was getting ready to tell him to go fuck himself when he said, 'It's Akane. She's my friend, even if she's done a lot of questionable shit.’ He shrugged. Junpei shrugged a lot. 'If you knew your friend was going through a whole bunch of shit, wouldn't you try to help?'

Aoi glared at him. Junpei looked tired, he always did nowadays; dark circles around his bloodshot eyes and a fresh cut on his chin where he nicked himself while shaving (he could go without shaving for days at a time, Aoi knew, but he must have made an effort for dinner). There was sauce from the carpaccio on the corner of his mouth and his tie looked like a lost battle. He was an illustration of the encyclopedia entry for pathetic. He was also incredibly cute.

Aoi thought, Is this what she sees?

Akane's fucking miserable taste in men. Was it fucking catching?

*

Sleep came more easily after a good meal, some wine, and Junpei warm and snoring softly beside him. Junpei was a restless sleeper, twitchy and constantly shifting his position. Sometimes Aoi would wake up and Junpei would be lying across him, the two of them making a lopsided cross with Junpei's head on Aoi's stomach and his feet hanging down the side of the bed to almost touch the floor.

Aoi didn't mind. He was used to it: he'd shared a room with his sister back when they were young and she was pretty much the same, sliding out of her futon and getting tangled with the sheets. The years after the Incident he'd wake up in the middle of the night and hear her crying, but she never mentioned it and he never pried.

If Junpei ever cried out or called her name in his sleep, Aoi pretended not to hear. He was sure Junpei did the same.

*

Aoi woke up to a familiar tapping sound. The room was dark, and the soft glow from the screen of Aoi's laptop like an oasis of light that turned Junpei's skin a silvery tan. Junpei got dark under the sun, his skin turning a nice caramel colour while Aoi burned and turned yellowish grey. He hated going to the beach. And of course, this whole enterprise required them to go through whole fucking stretches of godforsaken deserts. Curse his fucking luck.

'You really should change your password, dude,' said Junpei.

Aoi grunted. It wasn't like there were any important files in his hard drive that Junpei wasn't already familiar with. Besides which, Junpei only ever used Aoi's laptop to play online RPGs and watch episodes of his favourite dramas and anime. Aoi could see the screen from where he was lying and it looked like Junpei was playing some game of the tabletop variety, tapping on cards and discarding them with a frown.

They were silent for a while; Junpei concentrating on his game and Aoi wondering if he should go back to sleep or try to distract Junpei. Both were tempting options: Junpei didn't distract easily, but that was the fun of it. On the other hand, it _had_ been a long day.

Aoi never got to decide because after a couple minutes Junpei said, 'What's in Nevada?'

'Fucking sand,' said Aoi, turning to his side so he was facing Junpei . 'What d'you mean?'

Junpei switched tabs and moved the laptop so Aoi could see the screen better. 'This was the most recent page you opened. It's not the same area as Building Q. I checked.'

Aoi grinned. ‘What, you haven't even figured that out? And you're the guy who blew up Free the Soul’s headquarters. Was that pure luck, then?’

Junpei wheedled and pouted--someone ought to tell him he looked like a floppy duck when he did that, but not Aoi who found it funny and the tiniest smallest bit charming. He finally gave up and left to take a piss, so Aoi sat up and stared at the zoomed out Google map of Nevada that Junpei had left open in the browser.

What the fuck _was_ in Nevada? As more days passed Aoi was starting to think he didn't know either.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So erm, yes. I finished writing this 'round February (flashback chapters are easier to write because there's less world-building involved), sent it over for beta, and was getting ready to do the revisions when Aksys uploaded Participant 5's pic on the Crash Keys twitter. That threw me off because I was writing this fic under the assumption that Junpei isn't a participant in the ZE3 Nonary Game and I guess I ran out of steam for a while. 
> 
> More facts came out and there's also the trailer for Zero Time Dilemma and I started feeling like ZTD!Junpei is not someone I know. That and I know I tagged this as AU but I still sort of want to be as canon compliant as possible and boy do I need to do a whole lot of magicking to get this anywhere near compliant to ZTD so. But it's definitely still happening. I'm going to finish writing this fic if it's the last thing I do! (Talk to me about hot Junpei, though. Definitely not a floppy duck anymore.)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! And thanks again to everyone who left the kindest comments in the previous chapter. Those took me by surprise and made me feel so happy! <3
> 
> 18/10/2017 Hello ZTD Junpei. Took a while to get here, but I think we're closer to him now than in the previous form of this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it took me ages to update lemme make up for it by sharing this lovely fanart [Kela](http://kelaruj.tumblr.com/) drew of Tenmyouji and Santa. (She also draws amazing Megaten fanart and I totally recommend giving her a follow!)
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> Next chapter is done and will be uploaded soon! Thanks so much for reading <3

Someone was speaking, a high-pitched voice talking too fast for him to make out the words. They were holding him back, grips tight on his wrists and ankles and he heard himself shouting, telling them that he needed to escape--all of them needed to escape, why was he the only one who felt the urgency of it? They needed to get _out_ and this was the only way; he needed to carve out a door for himself needed the knife back, but someone had taken it away from him, why won’t they listen--

Aoi sat up in bed, heart pounding like in his dream. ‘Junpei?’

He was alone in the room, slice of light from the hallway spilling from the open door and from beyond that the soft sound of someone sobbing. For a moment he found himself unable to move; details from the dream bleeding into his own memories and it took several deep breaths and a quick scan of the room to remind himself it wasn’t morning yet, that he wasn’t in a hotel room in the middle of nowhere, and that more than four decades had passed. Junpei wasn’t lying in exhausted sleep next to him, dark hair sweat-stuck to his forehead and muttering from his own uneasy dreams, but the mattress was still warm from when he had been--no, that was Tenmyouji. Forty five years have passed and Junpei had grown old without him.

Aoi slid out of the bed. ‘Junpei?’

The sobbing seemed to have stopped and someone else was talking, a calm soothing voice that still had an edge to it--Tenmyouji was worried, the emotion translated as irritation by his voice except Aoi had spent too much time with him to be fooled.

Only one of the lamps in the hallway was turned on, which wasn’t unusual since the amount of electric consumption per household was being heavily monitored by the authorities. Tenmyouji had said this was a vast improvement on the scheduled blackouts they used to have after the Fall. Aoi couldn’t see how a kid like Quark could grow up in that kind of environment, but of course he didn’t have anything to compare it with.

Quark.

Aoi found himself running across the hallway to the kitchen, bare feet making padding sounds against the wooden floor and he reckoned he was lucky they’d done some spring cleaning earlier or he’d have stepped on something sharp and covered with rust. He paused at the doorway of the kitchen, the sight of Tenmyouji and Quark sitting at the kitchen table filling him with relief. Of course Quark was fine. Tenmyouji would have been more than irritated otherwise, shouting at Aoi to get his lazy arse in there and help. (He knew Aoi was awake, of course; the problem with living with an esper was that you can almost never sneak up on them).

‘Drink your milk.’

‘I’m fine, Grandpa, stop fussing.’

‘You don’t sound fine to me.’

‘I’m fine.’

Aoi took another deep breath before entering the kitchen, trying to gauge if intervention was needed (It was) and what kind of intervention was called for (The soothing kind; not Aoi’s specialty, but Tenmyouji he can handle and Quark was a sweetheart). 

‘I’ll go make some tea,’ he said to no one in particular. Tenmyouji was frowning at him, but Aoi assumed that was his ‘deep in thought’ face. Aoi would have made a crack about watching out for wrinkles except that was probably not what a ‘soothing intervention’ meant. 

What worried him was Quark, who had been staring at his half-empty glass of milk since Aoi got there. His eyes were still red from crying and he was biting at his lower lip. 

‘All right there, Squirt?’ 

Quark tried to put on his usual smile. ‘I’m fine. Just a bad dream.’ 

‘Wanna have some snacks with your milk? I think there’s still some biscuits left over.’ Aoi reached out for the biscuit tin Tenmyouji had crammed on the topmost shelf of the cupboard (horrifyingly close to a jar of screws) but Quark was getting up from his chair, leaving his glass on the kitchen table. 

‘No, thanks. I think I’m just going back to bed.’ He yawned. It wasn’t faked, but it’s obvious to everyone in the room how tense he still was. ‘’Night, Grandpa. ‘Night, Aoi.’ 

‘’Night,’ said Tenmyouji, standing up as well. Aoi left the biscuit tin where it was and grabbed the old man by the arm instead. 

‘Let’s have some tea,’ said Aoi. When it looked like Tenmyouji was going to protest, he smiled and added, ‘Sit down, Junpei.’

*

‘So, correct me if I’m wrong,’ said Aoi, pulling out the chair next to his helpfully. ‘But I’m looking at you and I can swear you’re not sitting down.’

‘Hold your damned horses.’ Tenmyouji took out a bottle of whiskey from under the sink and said, to Aoi’s raised eyebrow, ‘I think we both need it.’ 

‘How the hell did you get your hands on a Hibiki 12?’ 

‘The thing about surviving the apocalypse,’ said Tenmyouji, placing the bottle on top of the table, ‘is that you get to know other survivors. Some of whom may know where and how to get their hands on a cache of Japanese whiskey.’ 

‘You mean to tell me this was from before the apocalypse?’ said Aoi, picking the bottle up and looking at it. It was still sealed, which meant Tenmyouji was saving it up for a special occasion. ‘Are you sure?’ 

‘Another good thing about the apocalypse is that most people who enjoy a good whiskey are probably all dead. More for you and me.’ Tenmyouji carried Junpei's brand of dark humour well; the things he’d said as a young man far less offensive forty odd years later. ‘Yeah, go on. Might as well enjoy it before I’m dead.’ 

Aoi snorted. ‘Not until I’ve gotten my money’s worth out of you, old man.’ 

That made Tenmyouji laugh. ‘Just open the damned bottle, Aoi.’ 

He did, the cork making a satisfying little pop. Aoi brought the stopper close to his nose to sniff at the woody and slightly fruity scent of the whiskey.

‘That’s some good shit. Please tell me we’re not mixing it with tea.’ 

‘We can do that,’ said Tenmyouji, sitting on the chair Aoi had pulled out earlier. ‘And we can drink it straight later on. Doesn’t matter.’ 

‘Remember how you used to pour Coke in my drinks?’ 

‘Yeah, well, I had to drag you back to your hotel room back then,’ said Tenmyouji. ‘As luck would have it, our room is just down the hallway. Don’t expect me to carry your arse back there, though.’ 

‘Back at you.’ Aoi smiled. The whiskey _was_ as good as he remembered; if anyone had told him he'd last four decades without touching alcohol he would have questioned their sanity. But as far as firsts go Hibiki 12 wasn't bad at all. 'What do you mean we both need it?'

‘Dunno.’ Tenmyouji shrugged. ‘When you woke up, I got something from you.’ 

‘If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have said you’re a shit esper,’ said Aoi. ‘“You got something”? Care to be more specific?’ 

‘Well, it’s not like I was born to it,’ said Tenmyouji. ‘So what the hell happened?’ 

Aoi adjusted his chair so he could prop his feet up on Tenmyouji’s lap. ‘Tell me what happened with Quark first.’ 

‘A bad dream. I heard him cry out so I went to check in on him. Said he couldn’t really remember what it was he dreamed about, but he was still crying so we came here for some milk.’ Tenmyouji took a sip from his glass before continuing, ‘Usually he’d come straight to me when he has a bad dream. But this time he hasn’t said a damned word about it except to insist he’s fine.’ 

‘You think it might be because I sleep in your room?’ 

It was Tenmyouji’s turn to snort. ‘He wakes you up so you can make pancakes for breakfast.’ 

‘Yeah, well, pancakes _are_ nightmarish when your cooking’s concerned,’ said Aoi. This earned him a pinch on the inner thigh, and he retaliated by kicking at Tenmyouji’s knees. ‘I meant maybe he wanted to speak to you alone.’ 

‘He had plenty of time to do that before you got here,’ said Tenmyouji. ‘And not a peep from him.’ 

‘Hmm,’ said Aoi. ‘Right. How about I try talking to him?’ 

‘What good will that do?’ 

‘I did raise Akane when I was just a kid myself,’ said Aoi. ‘Gimme some fucking credit.’ 

‘And an excellent job you made of it,’ said Tenmyouji, drily. 

Aoi laughed, switching to Japanese, ‘Aside from the kidnapping and conspiring, you mean?’ They talked in English for Quark’s benefit, but this was something else; years ago neither of them would have said her name, let alone made jokes. 

Tenmyouji was looking at him from the top of his glass. ‘For what it’s worth, I never held that against either of you.’ 

‘Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m here isn’t it.’ 

‘I could always chuck you out.’ Tenmyouji was grinning. Aoi knew it was more because of the whiskey than his soothing intervention, but a guy could flatter himself. ‘But then who’d make the pancakes?’ 

‘And here I thought it was my charm,’ said Aoi, giving Tenmyouji’s knees another kick. ‘Nice to know what I’m really wanted for.’ 

‘Your feet are dirty!’ said Tenmyouji, looking at the dust marks Aoi’s feet had left on his pyjama bottoms. 

‘Dude, try running down the hall without slippers on.’ 

‘You’re worried about him,’ said Tenmyouji. His tone implied a question that Aoi chose to ignore, taking another sip from his own glass instead and watching Tenmyouji brush the dust from his trousers. ‘Yeah, okay,’ Tenmyouji said, after a moment’s consideration. ‘Why don’t you try talking to him?’

*

Aoi had drunk enough in the past that he was sure he won’t be enjoying himself the next morning; and it was a good thing he’d managed to convince Tenmyouji to lay off the scavenging for the day or they were all going to be a glum, sleep-deprived bunch. It had taken some arguing and a whole lot of well-timed kisses, but Tenmyouji had finally agreed to take a mini-holiday.

‘Why don’t you go spend the day with your friends at the bar?’ Aoi had said, once they’d gone back to bed and Tenmyouji was looking more relaxed and sleepy. 

‘Why?’ 

‘You don’t have to be so fucking suspicious,’ said Aoi. He considered pouting, but that would only make Tenmyouji more suspicious. ‘When have I ever kept secrets from you?’ 

‘Oh I don’t know,’ said Tenmyouji. ‘The whole nine hours of our first meeting?’ 

‘That was different.’ He was pouting now. So much for that. 

‘You’re keeping one from me now.’ 

Fucking espers, Aoi thought. ‘Yeah, I am.’ 

Tenmyouji sighed. Aoi could almost feel him weighing his options; his mood tinged with guilt and worry. 

‘I’m not trying to come between you two, you know,’ said Aoi. He was probably pushing it and should wait for Tenmyouji to reach his own conclusions, but he was sleepy and he didn’t want Tenmyouji to sulk the rest of the night away in one corner of the bed. There was still only one pillow, after all. 

‘That’s not--’ Tenmyouji grabbed at Aoi’s wrist before he could start pinching. ‘When will you stop being always right?’ 

‘When you and your kid stop being so fucking silly,’ said Aoi, baring his teeth. ‘And I did tell you everything, all those years ago.’ 

‘Because I’d already figured most of it out.’ 

‘Yeah, but I didn’t have to.’ It was almost funny, how they were arguing about shit that’s happened forty seven years ago, but Aoi reckoned Junpei had more things to worry about than pointing fingers back then. ‘You never had any trouble trusting me before, man.’ 

‘We wanted the same thing,’ said Tenmyouji, keeping his eyes focused anywhere but Aoi’s face. ‘Before.’ 

‘And nothing’s fucking changed.’ Aoi took a deep breath; hand it to a crotchety old man to be so fucking obnoxious when all Aoi wanted was to sleep and cuddle. ‘All right?’ 

‘No,’ said Tenmyouji, a ghost of a smile passing over his lips. ‘But we’re both sleepy as fuck and I probably need some rest if I’m going to the bar later.’ 

‘Fucking finally,’ said Aoi, scooting closer to Tenmyouji and letting out a satisfied huff of breath when Tenmyouji placed an arm around his waist. ‘Now go to sleep.’ 

So that was the old man out of the way; Tenmyouji had left the house earlier than Aoi expected, saying something about visiting old acquaintances (Aoi was sure this friend was called Hibiki, and that Tenmyouji was just looking to replenish his stock) and taking all the sandwiches Aoi had made for lunch with him. 

Which was all right; Aoi and Quark could have pancakes for lunch. Aoi left the kitchen to look for Quark, only to be greeted by a small figure wrapped in a grey comforter harrumphing down the hallway. 

‘Quark?’ 

‘I’m an elephant!’ 

Fair enough: the kid had taped large felt ears on both sides of his hat and had somehow come up with a contraption made of a bit of hose and a couple of plastic pipes that looked to be a snout and tusks. 

‘Does Elephant want some lunch?’ said Aoi. 

‘Elephants are herbivores,’ said Quark, doubtfully. 

‘We’re having pancakes,’ said Aoi. ‘Which could be made vegetarian; except these ones aren’t.’ 

‘What about the sandwiches?’ 

‘Junpei took ‘em all.’ 

‘Oh,’ said Quark, unwrapping the comforter from himself and placing his hat and contraption on top of the pile. ‘Okay. Elephant can watch us have pancakes.’ 

‘Good,’ said Aoi. ‘He can have some peanuts later.’ 

‘Do elephants eat peanuts?’ said Quark, pouring a liberal amount of honey on his stack of pancakes. Honey was overpriced, like everything else after the Fall, but Aoi didn’t care. He’d never learned to scrimp when it came to people he cared about and it wasn’t like he didn’t have money to spend. Tenmyouji had salvaged a laptop from some office and had set it up for Aoi’s use. He was surprised to find out there’s still internet connection, but Tenmyouji said rich people from the Rhizomes had set those up. They had Aoi’s gratitude: their refusal to give up on memes and dick pics had allowed him to access his bank accounts, still intact after the chaos thanks to Akane. She was good with details. Sometimes too fucking good for her own well-being. 

‘I dunno,’ said Aoi, after Quark repeated his question in a louder voice. ‘I’m not sure what they actually eat, to be honest.’ 

‘Haven’t you seen elephants before? Grandpa said there used to be places where they kept all kinds of animals.’ 

‘Zoos,’ said Aoi, smiling. ‘Yeah, but I’ve never been to one. Akane didn’t like seeing a bunch of wild animals all caged up.’ 

‘They probably get lonely,’ said Quark, somehow managing to look solemn while chewing on a huge mouthful of pancakes. He didn’t start cramming his mouth until after he’d spoken though; which spoke a lot about his upbringing though Aoi couldn’t remember Junpei ever being as well-mannered. 

‘Probably.’ Aoi took a deep breath. This seemed like a good chance as any to bring the subject up. ‘You didn’t like getting locked up in the moon base, did you?’ 

‘It was pretty exciting at first,’ said Quark. ‘And scary. But Grandpa was with me so that’s all right.’ 

‘Junpei said you got sick.’ 

‘I did,’ said Quark, squirming in his seat. ‘I don’t remember everything, but Grandpa cried a lot. He doesn’t usually cry.’ 

‘Were you scared?’ 

‘A bit,’ said Quark. 

‘You’re plenty brave,’ said Aoi, cutting up his pancakes and wishing he had some bacon to go with them. Meat was still pretty scarce and no amount of money could change the fact that supply was few and far between. ‘I got sick too, you know. Before I came here.’ 

‘Really?’ Quark seemed to be getting bored of the topic; he clearly didn’t want to talk about the time he and Tenmyouji had spent in Rhizome 9. But this new information intrigued him; he liked listening to stories about Aoi. Aoi reckoned Tenmyouji had never talked about him, and Quark was curious about his Grandpa’s ‘boyfriend’. (The kid told Aoi he rated 16 EU, though. Something that puzzled the fuck out of him until Tenmyouji explained how Erotic Units worked. It didn’t sound like something a kid like Quark should bother himself with, but that was Junpei for you. And 16 EU was pretty good--although personally Aoi thought he deserved a 19.) 

‘Yeah. Junpei was there too,’ said Aoi. ‘I guess I managed to scare the hell out of him. He had no idea what was going on.’ 

‘What happened?’ 

Aoi thought about it. ‘We got separated,’ he finally said. There was more to it than that, but Quark didn’t need to know the details. ‘I think he blamed himself.’ 

Quark said nothing. Aoi could feel faint traces of Quark’s dream again, the panic and confusion. And the guilt. 

‘None of it’s your fault,’ said Aoi. 

‘It’s not Grandpa’s fault either.’ 

Kids shouldn’t be like this. They should laugh and play games and be naughty little fuckers without a care in the world. But this was Quark and he cared so much for his Grandpa. They were a couple of silly bastards who needed to communicate. Aoi sighed. 

‘It’s not,’ he said. ‘And I’ll talk to him about it, but I think you two need to talk too.’ 

‘He’ll worry.’ 

‘He will, that silly little shit,’ said Aoi. ‘Don’t tell your Grandpa I cursed.’ 

‘He already knows you curse a lot,’ Quark pointed out. 

‘Not in front of you,’ said Aoi. ‘At least, not that badly.’ 

‘If you make more pancakes maybe?’ 

Oh they knew when and how to act cute, these damned Tenmyoujis.

‘Fine, fine.’ Aoi raised his hands. ‘You’ll tell him why you’re too full for dinner, though.’ 

‘I won’t be! They’re just pancakes.’ 

‘You’ll talk to him, though.’ 

Quark made a face. ‘I don’t want to make a fuss.’ 

‘You don’t, but he’ll make a fuss anyway.’ Aoi stood up to get the ingredients for more pancakes. They were running low on eggs, but he and Quark were going to the markets over the weekend so that wasn’t a problem. ‘He’ll worry either way, but I think both of you’ll feel better if you talk. No use bottling these things up.’ 

The batter was almost ready for the pan before Quark said, ‘Okay.’

*

Aoi had started chopping vegetables for dinner when Tenmyouji got back; he was a bit soused, which made him giggly and mellow (and smelling faintly of beer), but nothing close to being drunk. Junpei had learned to handle his alcohol better over the years.

Quark had come running as soon as he’d heard Tenmyouji call out from the doorway. Aoi could imagine them; Tenmyouji taking his shoes off and placing them next to Aoi’s and Quark’s boots, Quark holding the bottle of whiskey Tenmyouji had procured from his secret channels. The kitchen was too far away for Aoi to hear the actual words being said, but he was not above the morphic equivalent of placing a glass against the wall in hopes of amplifying sound. If Tenmyouji knew Aoi was listening in on his conversation with Quark, he would just have to deal. 

‘How are you feeling?’ Tenmyouji was asking Quark. He had sensed Aoi’s connection and had sent him a not unpleasant rush of moist warmth that felt like a drunken kiss, which--Aoi conceded--was exactly what it was. 

‘I’m fine,’ said Quark, note of a teasing chide in his voice. ‘It was just bad dreams, grandpa!’ 

‘Not getting enough sleep is never fun.’ 

Their voices were getting louder, which meant the two had moved on to the living room but Aoi didn’t let go of the connection. He still had potatoes and radish to chop into large cubes and this was handier than pressing his ear against the door. 

‘Did Aoi let you eat sweets for lunch again?’ 

‘There wasn’t anything else to eat because you took all the sandwiches.’ 

That made Tenmyouji laugh; so far so good. Aoi went back to prepping his vegetable stew. There wasn’t enough produce in the markets for a decent kenchinjiru, but it was better than Tenmyouji’s damned vegan patties and Aoi was getting better at making his own firm tofu. 

‘Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?’ 

‘Where would Aoi sleep?’ The kid was being coy; it wouldn't be the first time he'd camped out in Tenmyouji and Aoi’s room. He and Aoi always bundled up in Tenmyouji’s bed after watching horror movies. 

‘The floor,’ said Tenmyouji; the knowledge that Aoi could hear what he was saying adding an extra layer of humour to his tone, the little shit. ‘He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.’ 

‘I can take care of myself,’ said Quark. 

‘Fair enough.’ A moment’s pause in which Aoi could feel the uncertainty in Tenmyouji, and he wasn’t sure if the old man was bracing himself for something or if this was a wordless plea for confirmation. Quark had agreed to talk and Tenmyouji felt that, a sort of parental instinct he didn’t need to be an esper for. 

Checking that his stock hasn’t boiled over, Aoi snorted. ‘Are you asking me for advice?’ 

‘Out with it Quark,’ said Tenmyouji. ‘Do you want to talk about your dream?’ 

Quark’s answer came slowly; he didn’t sound unsure, no reluctance now in telling his grandpa what had been bothering him. It felt more like he was trying to figure out the words, fitting sentences together like a jigsaw puzzle. 

‘I dreamt of the time we went to the moon.’ 

Tenmyouji’s gasp wouldn’t have been audible if Aoi hadn’t been resonating with him. Aoi doubted Quark heard. 

‘I felt like I had to do something. There were so many people shouting and everything was happening very fast.’ 

‘Quark--’ 

‘It was scary, Grandpa,’ said Quark. ‘But I don’t remember much of it. They’re just bad dreams. I remember you hugging me though. And crying.’ A pause. ‘And I remember the stars! We saw so many stars when we were in the moon. I’ve only seen them in movies before.’ 

This was between Tenmyouji and his son. Whatever reply the old man will give Quark, Aoi didn’t think it was for him to know. Cutting the connection, he settled back to his kenchinjiru.

*

‘What did you tell him?’ said Tenmyouji, once talks and dinner were over and he was getting ready for bed. The old man felt calmer now, if not less guilty, and he was skittering at the edge of not meeting Aoi’s eyes.

‘Hmm,’ Aoi said. He was already lying in bed and watching Tenmyouji change into his pyjamas (‘Stop fucking staring, you pervert’). ‘Did you blame yourself for what happened to me?’ 

Tenmyouji had been about to sit on the bed next to Aoi, but the question made him pause. ‘How could I not? I don’t even remember what the hell happened all those years ago. What if it was me that got you sick?’ 

‘We don’t know that,’ said Aoi. ‘You weren’t sick when I found you. And who cares? I’m fine.’ 

‘You could have died.’ Tenmyouji did sit on the bed this time, his back to Aoi. He sounded tired. ‘I thought you were dead. And I fucking let it happen.’ 

‘That’s not your fault,’ said Aoi, sitting up so he could face Tenmyouji. That is, they would have been facing each other if the old man wasn’t being a stubborn shit about avoiding eye contact. ‘Not what happened to me or her. Not even what happened to Quark.’ 

‘Why the fuck not? I put Quark’s life in danger. I should have known something was up; I was a fucking fool and--’ 

‘And Zero took advantage of your weakness. He played you like a fucking piano.’ Aoi grabbed at Tenmyouji’s shoulder, pulling him back so Tenmyouji had to face him. They were almost shouting, voices muted only because they didn’t want to disturb Quark. ‘But you know what? You’re still alive. Quark’s still alive and he’s here with you and giving you the chance to fucking make up for it.’ 

‘Aoi.’ 

‘Don’t give me any of that self-pitying fuckery--’ 

‘Aoi.’ Tenmyouji was reaching out for him, holding him close, and Aoi fucking hated it--this wasn’t supposed to be about himself, but fuck did Junpei get fucking annoying sometimes. And fuck him, but he did feel good with his arms around Aoi like this, warm and soothing and skinny as he was. ‘Quark’s dream; did you share it?’ 

‘Yeah.’ His voice was muffled against the flannel of Tenmyouji’s pyjama top. He could feel Tenmyouji’s hands rubbing his back; a soothing motion that he resented but Aoi couldn’t be arsed to push him away. 

‘And you didn’t tell me because?’ 

‘Why the fuck do you think?’ said Aoi, looking up at Tenmyouji. ‘Because I wanted to avoid this fucking scene.’ 

Tenmyouji laughed; Aoi could feel his chest moving though he didn’t make a sound. ‘And I fucked things up, didn’t I?’ 

‘Damn right.’ 

‘And that’s why Quark wouldn’t tell me anything either?’ 

‘He did tell you. But yeah.’ 

‘And I’m supposed to make up for it?’ 

‘Junpei’s a Worrier,’ said Aoi. They have both switched to Japanese at some point, and the pun was shitty but Aoi reckoned he might as well say it. 

‘Yeah, I think she said that before, at some point.’ 

Aoi snorted. She would have. Her sense of humour was worse than Junpei’s sometimes. ‘I guess this isn’t too bad.’ 

‘Hmm,’ said Tenmyouji, leaning over so he could kiss Aoi. That was nicer than cuddling actually; Tenmyouji was more sure about what he’s doing, not quite as tentative. It wasn’t better, wasn’t different--that wasn’t quite the word for it. It was kissing Junpei, except Junpei was older. 

‘Junpei.’ 

‘I think you’ve got the right idea.’ 

‘I always do,’ said Aoi, moving closer for another kiss. 

‘I think you should talk to her.’ 

Well if that wasn’t quite a mood breaker. What the fuck was wrong with this guy. Well, Tenmyouji was right, but Aoi wasn’t sure it was quite the right time yet. He would feel it. Or she would let him know. 

‘Kiss me again and I’ll think about it.’ 

‘You’re not supposed to think of anything while kissing me.’ 

‘You’re a fucking riot,’ said Aoi, smiling. 

Tenmyouji pouted. He still looked like a floppy duck, especially with his old man hair all mussed up. Aoi liked his well-groomed look; it was something Junpei wouldn’t have been able to pull off but sat very well with Tenmyouji. He was pretty hot for an old man and he looked great wearing glasses while doing detail work on his repairs. But this Tenmyouji with his flannel pyjamas and messy hair was Aoi’s Junpei, complete with Junpei’s silly duck face and shitty jokes. 

‘No worse than the worrier pun, surely.’ 

‘A lot worse.’ 

‘I guess it’s time you made me shut up.’ 

‘For sure,’ said Aoi, kissing him.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add a note about the Junpei is a worrier pun. What Akane says in 999 is '淳平くんは心配性' ('Junpei wa shinpaishou' which is literally 'Junpei worries too much'. This was localised as 'You're such a warrior' when Akane meant to say 'worrier'.)
> 
> The pun is that 'Junpei' sounds like 'shinpai'. She actually spells 'Junpei' and 'shinpai' out in hiragana in the dialogue aside from using the kanji. It's a very bad pun, tbh. About the level of Junpei's worse ones. :p


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aoi listens to a couple of songs in this fic. Here are links if you want to listen to them as well:
> 
> ['Sugar Hiccup'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fveetFoPViU) by Cocteau Twins  
> ['Ai Sansan'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jarMZBAzRuY) (This one performed by Atari Kousuke because it's the one with lyrics. The one Aoi listens to is [Misora Hibari's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lpoIs6b_ZNo))  
> ['All The Way To Reno (You're Gonna Be A Star)'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHlpWokiduk) by R.E.M.
> 
> Spoilers for ZTD from here on out.

Lives are usually story-shaped in the telling; structured and sensible, events given meaning and successes marked. 

Imagine now the lives of two young men, and the shape of their story:

What is it they want?

Many things. But for the sake of simplicity, consider the most fundamental desire that motivates their actions: they want to give a girl her smile back.

A simple enough story. In another universe they have already succeeded: warm and lazy days spent in the parks or at the shops, the three of them buying ridiculous hats and ice cream cones. Or weathering storms in the flat they shared, all wrapped up in blankets and sharing the last cup of hot chocolate. 

There would be arguments: her boys are too similar, know too well how to strike a nerve with carefully considered words and actions. She’d keep out of the way when this happens; they don’t stay angry long and she suspects they only bicker out of boredom. Soon enough her friend would be smiling again (he’s very cute when he smiled) and her brother would be back to his cat-like displays of affection. Less frequently she’d do something that annoys them both, but the three of them know the power of conciliatory kisses, promises to do silly things to make up for sharp words and obnoxious behaviour.

She would fall asleep with the two of them beside her, one on each side. Her brave and beautiful boys.

This is not that universe.

*

She drove back to the headquarters alone, light from the rising sun caught and reflected by the ring on her right hand. The glare was what made her eyes water, not the memory of his arms around her, not the sound of his voice fading as the drugs took effect.

She couldn’t stop now. 

There were preparations to be made and plans to set in motion. Sigma and Phi were waiting for her in the Crash Keys headquarters, but not her brother. Him she had left behind as well, and she might have found the situation funny if she didn’t feel so much like--

She couldn’t stop now.

*

Aoi couldn’t decide if it was lack of sleep or being drunk that made his head feel like a squashed tomato. His temples throbbed in time with the blinking of blue and red lights attached to vehicles and he considered crawling back inside his own car, safety behind the tinted windows and the sugary sweetness of Cocteau Twins playing from the speakers. He didn’t like Cocteau Twins; it was _she_ who had loaded the songs onto his ipod without a by-your-leave. But it was familiar and reminded him of days spent bent over blueprints and machines, her singing softly to herself.

‘ _Heavens curtsy and bow, sugar hiccup_ ,’ Elizabeth Fraser sang as Aoi closed the door behind him; the rest of the incomprehensible lyrics drowned out by the crackling of radios and people shouting urgently at each other. 

The world felt too small and too big at the same time, the reality of it like a vise around Aoi’s head and he wondered if he could throw up discreetly next to one of the ambulances without causing a scene. People in navy blue uniforms were wheeling a gurney into the ambulance, too busy to notice the guy walking towards them in a slow, deliberate way seen in the very drunk.

His breath caught in his chest. 

Time

stopped.

‘Are you,’ a tall man started to speak and then paused, frowning. ‘Are you Aoi?’

The man was easily a full foot taller than Aoi, could probably crush Aoi’s head with one hand, but at that moment Aoi was ready to feed him his own teeth one by one. 

‘What the fuck have you done to him?’ 

‘He’s all right.’ The man made a placating gesture with one hand. Aoi took an instinctive step backward. ‘He’s just. He’s sleeping.’

Aoi laughed. ‘And what? You called me over so I could tuck him in bed like a good boy? How the fuck did you get my number, anyway?’

‘His mobile was with the rest of his belongings, back in his room in the Dcom facility,’ said the man, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck and looking slightly sheepish. ‘I thought I should check if there’s someone I could call. It didn’t sound like he has family here in America, but I thought maybe friends, or workmates?’

The man paused, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Aoi, who said nothing. 

‘I’m Carlos,’ said the man, holding out his hand. ‘I was at Dcom with Junpei. I mean, Dcom is--’

‘I know what it is,’ said Aoi, ignoring Carlos’s hand. How else would Junpei have known about Dcom? What Aoi didn’t expect was to lose contact with the fucker and get called out into the middle of the desert weeks later to get visually and aurally assaulted by a bunch of police officials and a rescue team. ‘What I want to know is what the fuck am I doing here and what is Junpei doing on that fucking stretcher?’

‘Like I said, he’s sleeping,’ said Carlos. Aoi narrowed his eyes. It was easy to miss because of the darkness and the unhelpful police lights, but there was a tightness to the man’s face and his hands were shaking. ‘He’ll wake up soon enough. But before that, I--’ he coughed. ‘That is, I think you need to know his memory of recent events had been wiped.’

Aoi turned to look at Junpei. ‘What have you done to yourself now, you fucking fool.’

*

Aoi wasn’t what Carlos had expected. He remembered Junpei mentioning him, Akane’s non-committing reply about her brother, and had been surprised when he’d checked Junpei’s mobile and saw the name ‘Santa’ listed as one of his recently called contacts. It looked like Junpei had known all along how Aoi was doing and Carlos had no idea why he had to ask Akane. Perhaps it was another one of Junpei’s barbed quips, the kind that flew over Carlos’s head but sharply tipped with details from the past that always found their intended target.

Nothing about the exchange had felt quite as charged as the other conversations Junpei and Akane had had in the bunker but Carlos couldn’t be sure. He didn’t know what part Aoi was playing in the mystery of Junpei and Akane, and from the looks of him, Aoi didn’t seem like he was about to enlighten Carlos on anything.

The man himself was also a surprise. Carlos had been expecting a male version of Akane, maybe similar to the Akane he’d seen outside the bomb shelter: cold and unmoving. His voice over the phone had been perfunctory and businesslike, had made Carlos imagine a capable young man in a quiet suit. But here he was in the flesh, flannel shirt pulled over an outfit that wouldn’t look out of place in a Japanese rock music video. It was hard to think of him as Akane’s brother, but perhaps only from a superficial perspective.

Aoi was cold, a certain sharpness to it that was not present in Akane even in her most ruthless moments. Where Akane’s coldness was the kind that repelled, her brother’s was the sort that made you leave bits of your skin on frozen metal.

‘What the fuck have you done to him?’ Aoi had said, there was something in his pale eyes that reminded Carlos of the history where Akane had bashed his head in with a fire extinguisher. Siblings indeed.

Carlos didn’t think Aoi would be happy to find out it was his sister’s fault Junpei was currently out of commission. But if he knew Akane at all, he can arrive at his own conclusions.

It wasn’t Carlos’s story to tell; he owed Akane that much.

A part of him also thought this was not Akane’s decision to make, but he wasn’t sure how much of that was being fair and what part came from the sight of Junpei crumpled up on the ground trying to reach out for her. 

‘What the fuck happened in that site?’

Carlos couldn’t quite meet Aoi’s eyes. ‘I’m not sure.’ 

This wasn’t a lie; he didn’t know what had happened to Junpei and Akane before he came back to help them. Junpei might remember fragments of his time at the bomb shelter, but it would be up to him if he wanted to tell Aoi what he had gone through. 

Aoi’s glare told Carlos he wasn’t buying this, but Aoi also looked like he was on the verge of toppling over from fatigue and drunkenness. In this he resembled Junpei more than his own sister; they made quite an interesting trio. But it also made Aoi less likely to argue and Carlos was not above feeling grateful for it.

‘Does he need to go to the hospital?’ said Aoi, running a hand through his hair. ‘Can I take him home?’

‘He’ll be fine, the effects of the drug will wear off soon,’ said Carlos. He hesitated, wondering if Aoi would react to him like Junpei had done, but Carlos couldn’t let it end there. Not when he had promised to protect Junpei and Akane and the future they could have had together. Maybe it wasn’t too late. ‘If either of you need help, you have my number.’

Aoi had been looking at Junpei while Carlos was talking, but he turned back to Carlos at that. ‘You have his number, yeah?’ 

Carlos nodded.

‘Call him,’ said Aoi. ‘He might need help soon.’

*

‘ _Sugar hiccup while she reels, sugar hiccup_.’

This was a part of her plan and it had unravelled. His time was running out, and he wasn’t so much scared of what would happen to him as what Akane was planning on doing next. 

‘ _Makes the earth toss and tumble, sugar hiccup_.’

Aoi glanced at Junpei’s sleeping profile on the passenger’s seat; he looked like a sketch of himself done in black and white, only his shallow breathing reassuring Aoi that Junpei was in fact still alive.

With a growl of frustration, Aoi grabbed his ipod and skipped to the next song. It was ‘Ai san san’, something neither of them understood, but she liked some of the lyrics, ‘ _Life is a strange thing, isn’t it_?’

Beside him, Junpei stirred. The skin around his eyes looked red, as if he had been crying.

‘ _Life is a happy thing, isn’t it_?’

*

Someone was holding him close, cold hand tucked inside the waistband of his boxers and the familiar scent of peppermint. He thought of another name, of soft eyes misty with held-back tears, of silences.

That was not the name he said aloud.

‘Aoi?’

The man beside him moved closer, burying his face on Junpei’s shoulder and mumbling something that was either ‘fuck off’ or ‘fuck you’. 

This was nothing unusual. Junpei had woken up many times before in Aoi’s bed and had been greeted in much the same way more than once--although he preferred the times Aoi made better use of his mouth. 

It felt wrong. It took a few seconds for his mind to catch up with his gut feeling and when it did, Junpei found himself sitting upright on the bed, looking around the room in confusion. Aoi complained and used the hand tucked inside Junpei’s underpants to pinch at his back, but Junpei was already shaking him awake, not caring about the searing cold venom Aoi was capable of when woken up too early.

‘Dude, wake up.’

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘Aoi,’ said Junpei, trying to keep his voice steady, ‘How the fuck did I end up here?’

Aoi had been about to curse at him in the two languages that he knew; he had opened his mouth, slight twist at the edges of his lips that Junpei knew preceded a tirade that was almost lyrical in its crassness. But Junpei’s question made him stop, the anger in his eyes replaced by something else.

‘He said you’d forget,’ said Aoi. ‘I didn’t actually believe that was possible.’

‘Who? What? What’s possible? Who’s he?’

‘The guy from Dcom.’ At Junpei’s increasingly confused expression, Aoi shrugged. ‘Tall, blond, pretty guy? Said his name was Carlos.’

They were talking in English, but Aoi used the word ‘ikemen’, which Junpei found amusing. Less amusing was his memory of Carlos; a vague and patchy thing not unlike trying to remember a classmate from grade school. But Dcom was only days ago, surely he would remember? 

Was he even at Dcom?

‘Junpei.’ Aoi sat up and Junpei knew how bad he must have looked from the expression on Aoi’s face. Junpei always thought Aoi _would_ piss on him if he was on fire, and with a big shit-eating grin on his face while he was at it; to see him looking so worried now made Junpei wish more desperately that he could remember what it was he had gotten himself into.

‘I need to throw up,’ he said, palm pressed against his mouth. 

Aoi pointed in the direction of the bathroom, close enough to the bed that Junpei was sure he won’t be leaving a mess in Aoi’s fancy hotel suite. 

The air in the bathroom was warm and smelled of peppermint soap; Aoi must have taken a shower recently, drops of water still on the tiles surrounding the stall. Aoi’s skin-care and hair products were lined neatly on the counter and Junpei focused on those to avoid looking at his reflection. 

‘Need help?’ said Aoi, from outside.

‘No.’ His voice sounded flat as he leaned down the toilet, wondering if he should turn the tap on and deciding not to bother. It’s not the first time Aoi would hear him puking his guts out. The thing is, he wasn’t drunk. Not that he could remember, anyway.

He felt marginally better afterwards, nothing in his stomach but bile and the dull feeling of dread. Aoi had entered the bathroom while Junpei was still dry heaving, handing him a towel which he accepted without saying anything. Aoi had also grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar, shaking it absently as Junpei tried to wash the taste of puke from his mouth on the sink. 

‘We need to find Akane,’ said Junpei. He had no idea what was going on and the holes in his memory scared the fuck out of him. Surely Akane would know something. She always did. 

Aoi looked at him for a moment, something in his eyes that reflected Junpei’s emotions. Confusion? Fear? It was hard to tell; the moment broken when Aoi lowered his eyelashes and handed Junpei the bottled water.

‘Fuck knows where she is,’ said Aoi. The feeling of wrongness in Junpei’s gut tightened; Aoi wouldn’t be so flippant, not when it involved her. ‘We need to figure out what the hell happened at Dcom first.’

He paused and raised his eyebrows at Junpei, as if daring him to finish the thought.

Junpei was too tired to play. ‘We need to talk to Carlos, then.’

*

‘We’, Junpei had said. Everything about him seemed tight, stretched to breaking point. Aoi had convinced him to wait until morning before calling Carlos, pointing out that he might be at work or already asleep. Aoi didn’t give fucks about Carlos; the guy had implied he wanted to help, Aoi reckoned he wouldn’t mind getting a call in the middle of the night if it meant being of some use to Junpei.

But Junpei was too tired, needed rest that wasn’t forced upon him by sleeping drugs. The rest of his problems could wait.

Memory loss. Sleeping drugs. They sounded terribly familiar. Junpei’s thoughts were tangled; panic and confusion filling in the inexplicable gaps in his memory. But there were still enough pieces left, slivers of facts and decisions, fragments of puzzles and strange empty rooms. Enough for Aoi to get a vague picture in broad strokes. 

Died. And died again. The echo of it filling Aoi’s mind, reminding him of what was to come.

‘We’, Junpei had said.

‘I’m sorry,’ Aoi whispered, close to Junpei’s unhearing ear.

*

Carlos had agreed to meet them at a Denny’s near his home, apologising profusely for making them drive all the way to San Francisco.

‘No worries,’ said Junpei, putting the call on speakerphone as Aoi settled back on the bed with the breakfast tray. ‘I’m the one asking for a favour, it’s only fair.’

‘My shift ends at eight tomorrow morning, I can meet you at Denny’s for breakfast.’ 

‘The busy life of a fire-fighting hero,’ said Junpei. This was familiar; teasing Carlos about his job, the way Carlos took everything too seriously, even Carlos’s damned voice. And still Junpei had no clear memory of the man aside from faded snapshots of meals spent together at the Dcom facility. It was like trying to hold water in his cupped hand.

Carlos was laughing, ‘Not too busy for you, don’t worry. Where will you be coming from?’

Junpei looked at Aoi, who was busy with his eggs Benedict. 

‘Reno,’ said Aoi, through a mouthful of eggs and sauce. This should have looked disgusting, but he didn’t. Then again, Junpei _was_ pretty hungry. ‘More or less a four-hour drive from here, no biggie.’

‘We’d have to drive out by four in the morning,’ Junpei pointed out. Aoi was not a morning person. 

‘We can drive there today and get a room in a hotel nearby.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Carlos. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then?’

The question was on the tip of Junpei’s tongue; her name always close to the surface of his memories, tap tapping against a thick layer of ice. 

‘See you,’ said Junpei. 

He felt Aoi’s hand on his shoulder as he hang up, cold metal of the tray sliding across his lap. 

‘Better eat up, we’ve got a long day ahead.’

Junpei looked at the lone half of a muffin left on the tray. There was a handful of cherry tomatoes surrounding it, bright against the yellow sauce. None of it looked filling. 

‘Dude you ate almost everything!’

‘I got bored,’ said Aoi, patting his tummy as if to prove a point. ‘You spent fucking ages flirting with your Fire-fighting Hero.’

‘I wasn’t.’ Junpei tried to keep the defensiveness from his voice but he reckoned Aoi would hear it anyway. He was annoyingly good at picking up on emotions.

‘Sure,’ said Aoi. ‘Your face is the colour of those tomatoes you love so much.’

‘You know I hate tomatoes.’ He was whining now. It was like opening a vein in a tankful of teasing sharks, but Junpei was past caring; tomatoes were important to him in that he never wanted to see them in his plate.

Aoi laughed, launching himself from where he had been leaning against the headboard to the edge of the bed where Junpei was sitting.

‘We could get brunch later if you’re a good boy.’

‘Later?’ said Junpei, as Aoi started nibbling on his ear.

‘Later,’ said Aoi, all but purring in satisfaction as Junpei ran a thumb along pale skin not covered by his boxers, tracing a line across Aoi’s stomach before hooking a finger at the elastic of his underwear. ‘Right now, Santa’s looking for a naughty kid.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Junpei, smiling as he pushed Aoi onto the bed, ‘I can oblige.’

*

Much later and Junpei was back on the passenger’s seat of Aoi’s BMW, attacking his takeaway bag of tater tots in full concentration. Aoi had to wonder where he was putting it all; they’d stopped by a diner on the way to I-80 and Junpei had finished off a burger half the size of his head. But he was so skinny still, paper-skin stretched over sharp bones, and the cracks on the edges of him that sometimes showed through his eyes. The latter was new, something that Dcom did to him, something Junpei couldn’t remember.

The drive to San Francisco was a quiet one; Junpei a subdued presence on the right side of the car, rousing from his funk only to feed Aoi the last few tater tots he couldn’t finish. Aoi didn’t like them and they’ve gone cold in the bag, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice with Junpei waving them in front of his face. 

‘Stop that,’ said Aoi. Taking one hand off the steering wheel to swat at Junpei’s hand. ‘You’re blocking my fucking view.’

‘They won’t be any good if they’re cold.’

Something must be wrong with the fucker’s sense of touch if he thought the tater tots were still warm, but Aoi could see Junpei pouting at him from his peripheral vision and he didn’t have the energy to argue.

He opened his mouth obligingly, Junpei leaning over so he could pop the tater tots in one by one. It was one of Aoi’s more bizarre experiences with Junpei, and that included stashing Junpei inside a rubbish bin and wheeling him away from a building full of thugs. 

‘Dude,’ said Junpei, his face was close enough to Aoi’s that he could feel Junpei’s breath against his cheek. 

‘What?’

‘You’ve got an eyelash,’ said Junpei. ‘Hang on.’

Junpei was touching his face, fingers brushing against his cheek--

 _Her_ cheek. She was was looking up at him, her lips trembling into a smile as he wiped the tears from her face.

Aoi’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.

‘--after we escape from here.’

The half-remembered voice was distant. Aoi’s connection was fading; the whole thing just a damned wrinkle in the morphic fieldset, an intrusive transmission Junpei wasn’t aware he had sent out. 

The ring. His ring. Something about a ring--

‘Aoi?’

Aoi pulled over, not giving a fuck where they were, screech of tyres against concrete and another vehicle rushing past them, the driver blowing their horn irately, but there was a roaring in his ears that drowned all noise, the thundering of his heart that was too loud pressure at the back of his eyeballs--

‘Aoi,’ said Junpei. Aoi barely heard him, barely felt Junpei move. Junpei reaching out and turning the music down; Michael Stipe’s voice no more than a whisper now,

‘ _You’ve dusted the non-believers, and challenged the laws of chance_.’

‘Dude.’ Junpei’s hand was warm on the back of Aoi’s neck. ‘Aoi.’

‘Gimme a minute.’

To his credit, Junpei didn’t ask questions, didn’t even say anything as Aoi tried to get his shit together. 

Aoi leaned down, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. For a moment he wished he was back in Reno, the familiar trappings of the hotel room where he’d killed time waiting for news of Junpei, news of his sister; back in his bed with Junpei safe and naked and pressed against him. Selfish thoughts that did no one any good.

We have to find her, Aoi thought.

From the speakers, R.E.M. assured him he was gonna be a star.

He didn’t have much time left.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol imagine Aoi being all 'I was fucking my sister's fiance!!' though. :p


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was my last update really last year? adadgfsgfhg 
> 
> Guess who's still alive! And who shot themselves in the foot choosing Quark's POV in a serious drama chapter. This probably wouldn't have taken as long if I haven't decided now was a good time to write Quark's POV. Kids are hard to write holy shit. 
> 
> Thanks to Jinger once again for making me look smarter than I am (and for telling me egg rolls are something else entirely in the US). Remaining mistakes are my own. And thanks also to everyone who left kudos while I was lying in a ditch somewhere! You guys are awesome! <3

Quark’s weekdays started at five in the morning: he’d get up and dress and leave the flat with his grandpa after a quick breakfast. Most of the time they’d take a familiar route for work; parts of the city with large groups of settlers getting rid of broken appliances or having them fixed by Grandpa for a fee. If they find nothing worth salvaging they’d drive on to new places; Quark in the passenger’s seat rolling his window down so he could feel the wind against his face. 

It wasn’t always fun. On bad days they’d waste gas for a few useless trinkets and Grandpa would be in a bad mood. Back home Quark would play Grandpa’s favourite music and sing along if he knew the words. It didn’t make things better, but it helped.

After Aoi moved in with them he’d sing along with Quark; he knew the words to all the songs, even the ones in Japanese. He also made fun of Grandpa’s taste in music, saying he was a romantic sap. It made Grandpa turn red in the face and act all spluttery.

Quark liked Aoi, though Aoi tended to be very cranky in the mornings. He used to get up long after Quark and Grandpa have left the flat and would be growly and blinky if he had to be up before 10 AM. Quark had to make sure to wake up and turn his alarm clock off as soon as possible because it had woken Aoi up once before and he'd ignored them for the rest of the day to sulk in the room he shared with Grandpa. 

But recently he’d started waking up earlier to make packed lunches for Quark and Grandpa; shuffling around the kitchen like one of the zombies from the TV program that he liked so much. There weren’t any TV channels any more; what Aoi watched with Quark were BDs they’d picked up on their hunts. Grandpa didn’t approve of Quark watching horror movies because he’d always end up getting too scared to sleep at night, but Quark liked watching them with Aoi. They’d yell and clutch at each other whenever something scary happened (Grandpa would tell them off because they might bother the neighbours), and then set up camp in Grandpa’s room for the night. Grandpa would call them silly fools, but he always let them pile up on his bed and he always held them close.

Having fun with Aoi was great, and the packed lunches were good too; sometimes Aoi would be awake enough to make sandwiches or rice balls shaped like animals. It seemed like a shame to eat them, but their cuteness didn’t stop Grandpa. He ate the sandwich for today’s lunch without hesitation and wondered aloud why anyone would bother to make cute lunches for an old man.

‘Maybe Aoi thought you’d enjoy them,’ said Quark, biting into his own sandwich. It was shaped like a cat’s head; Aoi had put slices of cheese on top to make it look like a tabby. 

‘It’s a tiger,’ said Grandpa, grinning. ‘And knowing him he’s probably taking a dig at my age instead of thinking about what I’d enjoy.’ 

Aoi took a lot of digs at Grandpa; he would join Quark in trying to distract Grandpa from his work, making sure he won’t spend too much time hunched over his working table tinkering with all sorts of machinery. Sometimes this meant hugging Grandpa and bringing him snacks, which Grandpa appreciated. Sometimes they made a lot of noise and Aoi would pull at Grandpa’s hair, which Grandpa liked less. Aoi also kissed Grandpa a lot; Quark had seen kisses happen in all parts of the house. Pecks on the cheek or lingering ones on the mouth. It was like being in one of the romantic movies Grandpa liked to watch when he wanted to relax over the weekends. 

‘Come on,’ said Grandpa, when they’ve both finished off their tiger sandwiches. ‘Let’s pick up a present for Aoi before we go back.’

Earlier that morning Aoi had been complaining about the dark roots of his hair. He had silver hair like Grandpa did, but it wasn’t his natural hair colour and Quark heard them arguing about it before he and Grandpa headed out.

‘You can’t use cleaning bleach on your hair,’ Grandpa had said, with the same voice he’d used when Quark had painted his plush bunny green. It was Quark’s favourite colour and there was a can still half full of green paint stashed under the kitchen sink. Mr Fluffbottom never looked the same after; he looked rather sad and always wet. But he was a lovely shade of green that matched Quark’s favourite jumper.

‘I can’t go around looking like this.’

‘You’re going to burn the hell out of your scalp like that!’

Quark thought Aoi’s hair looked pretty, like frosting on a chocolate cake. Quark had only seen them in photos or the window displays of fancy bakeries, but he thought they looked yummy. They cost a lot though, and Grandpa said the ones in the window displays were actually made of paper.

He’d told Aoi this but it didn’t seem to cheer him up much; he’d kept muttering and sulking the whole morning. But he had made an effort on the sandwiches so Quark didn’t think he was really mad. 

‘Do you think we can find bleach that he can use on his hair, Grandpa?’ said Quark. Aoi always hid surprise snacks and sweets inside Quark’s hat, and Quark wanted to do something nice for him in return. 

‘I’ll ask around, but don’t keep your hopes up,’ said Grandpa, ruffling Quark’s hair. ‘He really shouldn’t keep on dyeing his hair like that in the first place.’

‘Aoi’s hair is pretty,’ said Quark. 

‘He’s pretty enough it doesn’t matter what he does to his hair.’ Grandpa grinned. ‘But don’t tell him I said that; he’s vain enough without the validation.’

‘What’s validation, Grandpa?’

Grandpa rubbed at his chin. ‘It’s when you tell people they’re right, I guess.’ 

‘Hmm,’ said Quark. ‘That doesn’t sound too bad, though. When was the last time you told Aoi he’s pretty?’

Grandpa didn’t pause to think that over. ‘Never.’

‘Maybe you should,’ said Quark. ‘He always says nice things.’

‘To you maybe.’ Grandpa laughed. ‘If we told each other nice things it would be the end of the world.’

‘But Grandpa.’ Quark looked up at his grandpa with a triumphant smile. ‘The world ended a long time ago!’

That made Grandpa laugh. ‘So it has,’ he said. Though he was smiling, Quark thought he looked sad.

*

Quark did his best, but half an hour had passed and he had only a promise from Cid the Chemical Guy to send word if anything comes up. Grandpa had excused himself while Quark had been talking to Cid and he came back with a small parcel wrapped in brown paper in one hand.

‘Better go back now,’ said Grandpa, looking at the slice of sky visible from the awning that fronted Cid’s shop. Grandpa said the sky used to be blue; it was blue in the movies he liked to watch with Quark during the weekends. But not all the time, of course. It has to do with the time and the weather; Grandpa had taught him all about that. Sometimes the skies were reddish orange, then sometimes grey and cloudy: those were closer to what Quark was used to. He found the blueness pretty strange, but it _was_ a peaceful sort of colour, like the colour of Grandpa’s best shirt.

‘Did you get something for Aoi?’ said Quark, trotting after Grandpa back to their truck. He wished he had something to show for his efforts, but he’d just have to do his best next time. Quark didn’t know anyone who dyed their hair aside from Aoi, so he assumed there were still bleaching products lying around. It was like Grandpa said, when he tried to explain to Quark how ‘economics’ worked: there weren’t a lot of food and supplies left after the end of the world, but there were also fewer people so the demand wasn’t much greater than the supply. If there was no demand for hair products, there were bound to be leftovers somewhere. 

‘They’re not hair products,’ said Grandpa, ‘but they’d have to do for now.’

Quark wanted to ask Grandpa what’s inside the parcel, but he knew he’d find out when Aoi unwrapped it later anyway, so he kept his mouth shut. At least he didn’t have to wait long until they got back. Cid’s shop was not far from the building where Quark and Grandpa lived: most people chose to live close to each other for convenience. 

Aoi greeted them at the door with a grumbled ‘Welcome back’ in Japanese. Aoi and Grandpa talked in their native language when they’re discussing private things, but Quark had some of the phrases memorised and Aoi had also started teaching him how to write the characters. They looked pretty, he thought. Especially the ones that meant a word on their own. 

‘We’re back!’ said Quark, also in Japanese. This made Aoi smile, although his face still had traces of his bad mood from earlier. Quark noticed Aoi was wearing one of Grandpa’s big handkerchiefs tied around his head. This usually meant he was cleaning the house, but maybe he just didn’t want to look at his hair. 

‘Doing some cleaning?’ said Grandpa, as he leaned down to take his shoes off. Aoi helped Quark with his boots; the laces still gave Quark trouble sometimes but they were nice and sturdy and Grandpa said he should wear them to protect his feet from sharp stuff when they went out.

‘Hm,’ said Aoi. ‘There’s some biscuits if you want them. I just made a new batch.’

‘Can we have some tea too?’ said Quark, heading off towards the kitchen and leaving Aoi and Grandpa behind. Greeting them back home meant more kisses and Quark had seen enough kisses to last him a lifetime. 

‘You sound like an old man,’ said Grandpa.

‘You’re rubbing off on all of us, is what,’ said Aoi. Grandpa laughed and said something Quark didn’t catch. It was probably some dirty joke. They were quite embarrassing. 

‘Here you go.’ Grandpa handed Aoi the parcel when they joined Quark at the kitchen table. Aoi had set about making tea while Quark poked at the biscuits to make sure they were cool enough. They must have arrived when Aoi was finishing up because he’d left the last batch still sitting on the tray. The biscuits filled the kitchen with a warm, sweet bakery smell. 

‘What’s this?’ said Aoi, wiping his hands on his apron before taking the parcel. 

‘Quark’s asked some people to look around for hair bleach, but in the meantime I thought you could use that.’

Quark looked up from his tray of biscuits long enough to see Aoi unwrap a couple of brightly coloured headbands. Aoi held out a pink one and raised his eyebrow at Grandpa.

‘Really?’ He was smiling though, so Quark knew he was teasing.

‘I thought you’d like the flashy colours,’ said Grandpa. 

‘Fashion was never your strong suit.’ But Aoi was untying the handkerchief from his head and putting on the pink headband anyway. The colour stood out against his two-toned hair, and Quark thought he looked pretty cool. 

He said so, and Aoi gave him a grin. 

‘At least someone in this family has some good sense,’ he said, reaching out to pull at the lobes of Quark’s ear.

‘If you keep doing that I’ll look like a Buddha,’ said Quark, swatting at Aoi’s hands. 

‘What’s wrong with that?’ said Aoi. ‘I thought we should all strive to be enlightened.’

That made Grandpa laugh, and Quark was giggling too though he didn’t know what ‘enlightened’ meant. 

‘I don’t know if the shape of the ears have anything to do with it,’ said Grandpa.

‘They all have stretchy earlobes, though,’ said Quark. 

Aoi had gone back to pouring tea for everyone, but when he heard that he turned around so he was facing Quark. ‘How did you even know about the Buddha?’ 

‘They’re in some of Grandpa’s movies.’

‘I thought all you watched were cheesy romcoms.’ 

Quark remembered something. ‘Don’t you have something to say to Aoi, Grandpa?’

‘What’s this now,’ said Grandpa, scratching at the back of his head. But his face was also turning red, so Quark knew he was only pretending not to know what Quark was talking about.

‘What’s that?’ Aoi set the cups of tea on the table. A few years ago, Quark and Grandpa had managed to salvage a set of cups without handles from a warehouse in a neighbouring settlement. Grandpa called them ‘yunomi’ and they were a nice pale green colour with bamboo patterns on the side. They were also rough and lopsided, but Grandpa said they were supposed to look like that. Before Aoi came along, Quark and Grandpa made tea from teabags and Grandpa never bothered to use his special cups. But now Aoi made sure they always have good tea and so they used the good teacups.

Quark traced the bamboo pattern on the side of his cup with his fingers and waited for Grandpa to say something. When he didn’t, Quark said, ‘Grandpa!’ in his most disappointed tone.

‘Did you do something bad again?’ said Aoi. ‘Out with it.’

‘No, I didn’t,’ said Grandpa. He sighed. ‘It’s just a conversation I had with Quark.’

‘I think you should tell him.’ 

‘You don’t have to if you don’t wanna,’ said Aoi. Quark saw that he was hiding a pout from behind his biscuit; Aoi could get really sulky when he knew they were keeping secrets from him. 

‘Quark thinks I should tell you that Ithinkyoulookgood,’ said Grandpa. It sounded like one long word. Quark wasn’t sure Aoi understood what Grandpa had said: he looked blankly at Grandpa for a moment before reaching out to touch Grandpa’s forehead.

‘Are you okay? Are you sick?’

‘See?’ said Grandpa. ‘This is why I didn’t want to say anything.’ 

‘Do you really mean that?’

‘You think I keep you around for your personality?’

Aoi smiled. ‘I always reckoned it was my money.’

‘There’s also that,’ Grandpa agreed. 

‘A fine example you’re showing young Quark here.’

‘It’s okay. I know Grandpa has had a troubled love life,’ said Quark. Grandpa seldom talked about his past--Quark hadn’t known about Aoi until he’d showed up in their home--but Quark did know about Akane; Grandpa still had a photo of her. And Quark had also heard some of the neighbours talking. 

‘Quark!’ Grandpa spluttered. ‘Where did you learn that?’ 

‘He’s not wrong.’ Aoi laughed, but Quark thought he didn’t look very happy. He added something in Japanese, but Quark only understood the ‘I’ part. Grandpa said not to use that word when referring to himself, but he and Aoi both used it. 

‘Aoi.’ Grandpa took a deep breath. ‘Not now.’ 

Quark squirmed in his seat, wondering if he should excuse himself and leave Grandpa and Aoi alone. They didn’t sound like they were arguing but Quark wished he hadn’t brought the topic up in the first place.

‘Remember that guy--Mr Handsome?’ Something in Aoi’s tone made Quark think he meant something else, although the question sounded like a simple one. 

Grandpa must have thought the same because he frowned and said, ‘What’re you talking about?’

‘Blondie. The guy from Dcom?’

That was a new word; Quark had never heard of Dcom before. He wanted to ask what it meant, but he didn’t think now was the time. Aoi had that faraway look he puts on when he’s concentrating on something; his eyes were unfocused although he seemed to be looking at Grandpa. 

But Grandpa refused to meet anyone’s eyes, looking instead at his teacup. Quark noticed that he was gripping it very tightly.

‘Carlos?’ said Grandpa, after a while. 

‘Yeah,’ said Aoi. ‘Him. What happened to him?’

‘What do you think?’ Grandpa stood up; he was still holding his cup. ‘I’ll be at my workroom. Thanks for the food.’

Quark and Aoi watched him leave, but neither of them tried to stop him.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Quark. He didn’t understand what happened, but he felt it was his fault somehow. Grandpa was a very private person, and Quark felt he shouldn’t have started talking about Grandpa's past just like that.

‘No, it’s my fault.’ Aoi put his biscuit back on his plate; he’d only taken a few bites from it. 

Quark thought about it, then decided Aoi wouldn’t mind; ‘Who’s Carlos?’ 

Aoi shrugged. He was silent for so long Quark thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, ‘Someone who loved Junpei very much.’

‘Oh,’ said Quark. That made sense; Grandpa was old so he must have known a lot of people in the past. Quark knew Akane was Grandpa’s first love, but that didn’t mean she was the only one. ‘But he’s got you now.’

Aoi smiled, reaching out to tug at Quark’s ears again. ‘You’re a good kid.’

*

Aoi seemed distracted during dinner; giving short answers whenever Quark or Grandpa talked to him directly but staying silent otherwise. It was different from when he was angry or sulking. Quark thought it was like pouring sand over a fire.

‘I’ll clean up,’ said Grandpa, once he and Quark had finished off their second helpings of the stew. It was one of Aoi’s best dishes, but Aoi had only eaten half of his own portion. ‘Get some rest.’

‘Hm,’ said Aoi. He did pull at Grandpa’s hair before leaving the kitchen, so Quark thought they weren’t fighting any more.

‘Is he gonna be all right, Grandpa?’ said Quark. He had stayed to help Grandpa clean up the table and wipe the dishes later, but he also wanted to ask Grandpa if everything was fine.

‘He’s just being silly,’ said Grandpa. ‘He’s older than me, has he told you that?’

Quark nodded. Had he met Aoi before he and Grandpa had gone to the moon he would have laughed and thought Aoi was teasing. 

‘He said he was actually seventy two. Is it like with Phi and the others?’

‘Exactly like,’ said Grandpa. ‘He was older than me by three years, but it might as well have been a decade with how different our experiences were.’

‘He said his parents died when he was a kid,’ said Quark. That made him feel like he had a lot in common with Aoi, though Aoi didn’t have someone like Grandpa to take care of him. 

‘I guess I always felt that gap.’ Grandpa had started washing the plates while they were talking, handing the finished ones to Quark to wipe dry with a piece of cloth. ‘When we were younger. I think we’ve mostly balanced out now.’

‘Hm,’ said Quark, who had no idea what Grandpa was trying to say. 

‘But he’s still young,’ said Grandpa, as if reading Quark’s mind. ‘I forget that sometimes.’

‘I still don’t get it.’

Grandpa laughed, reaching out to ruffle Quark’s hair with his soapy hands. 

‘Grandpa!’

‘No one really gets it, kid. We just have to roll with it.’

*

There was still no word from Cid the next day; Quark had been expecting this but he was still disappointed. He couldn’t help with whatever made Aoi so unhappy the night before, but he thought the hair bleach might cheer him up a bit.

Grandpa wasn’t doing much better either; he’d been absent-minded the whole day and hadn’t said anything when Quark had come up with only a length of copper wire after several hours of searching. 

Quark was glad when Grandpa decided it was time to go home. At least there was Aoi to greet them at the door; helping Quark with his boots again and then reaching out to give Grandpa a kiss. That lasted a while, so Quark left them to it and headed towards the kitchen for a snack. 

Aoi had made Japanese omelette, which were Grandpa’s favourite. He was very similar to Grandpa in that he wasn’t very good with talking about his feelings, but he did nice things instead to make up for it.

‘Thanks for the food,’ said Grandpa, once he and Aoi had joined Quark at the table. ‘This looks great.’

Aoi snorted. ‘Of course it does.’

‘You do know I took home economics classes like everyone else in Japan, right?’ Grandpa glared at Aoi, but it didn’t look very effective because he was also stuffing the rolled omelette in his mouth. 

‘Grandpa always burns them,’ said Quark. Aoi’s omelette was always fluffy and sweet. Quark hadn’t known eggs could taste like that. 

‘There’s no need to tell him that.’

‘I’ve no idea how you guys managed to survive this long.’ Aoi pointed his chopsticks at Grandpa ‘Especially you.’ 

‘Don’t follow his example, Quark.’ said Grandpa, waving away Aoi’s chopsticks. ‘And you made sure I ate.’

‘Oh,’ said Quark. ‘Did you go on dates? Like in the movies?’ 

‘Hm,’ said Aoi. ‘I won’t say date so much as a thankless effort to fatten him up a bit. He was a walking stick even back then.’ 

Grandpa shifted in his seat; Quark thought it was so he could kick Aoi under the table. 

‘You’re one to talk.’ 

‘Yeah, but I was always like this,’ said Aoi. ‘ _You_ lost weight. You’ve never been good at taking care of yourself.’

Quark felt like he had to say something in Grandpa’s defence. ‘He takes good care of me.’

‘He’s better when he has other people relying on him.’ 

Grandpa grunted, but said nothing. As if that settled it, Aoi shifted his focus on his slices of omelette, complaining about the lack of wasabi and the quality of the soy sauce in the market. 

They ate in silence for several minutes, and then Aoi said, ‘That’s why I hoped Carlos would stay with you.’

‘Well.’ Grandpa sighed and put his chopsticks down. ‘About that.’

‘You’re gonna walk out again?’ Aoi was nice to Quark, but Quark had seen him in one of his moods before (usually arguing with people in the marketplace) and Quark knew how sharp Aoi’s tongue could be if he wanted. 

‘No,’ said Grandpa. ‘I should have told you from the start. It’s been a while since--I didn’t really want to remember.’

‘Grandpa--’

‘Was it Radical-6?’ Aoi’s tone was softer.

‘Ironically enough, no.’ Grandpa laughed and the sound made Quark wince. ‘Accidents were rampant the first months after the disease spread; infected people lost control of themselves and started panicking. You both know how it felt.’

Quark turned to look at Aoi. He had mentioned before that he’d fallen ill years ago. Had Aoi been infected with Radical-6? 

‘Imagine you’re driving a car when Radical-6 strikes. Heck, imagine you’re piloting a plane.’

‘What happened?’

‘It was a ten-wheeler truck. Crashed into a small apartment building. There were still families inside, and Carlos tried to help them out.’ Grandpa took a deep breath. ‘He was always fucking trying to help.’

Aoi reached out to touch Grandpa’s hands, which were folded tightly on top of the table. Quark had seen them hug and kiss many times before, but somehow this felt more intimate. He looked away. 

‘And his sister?’

‘I did my best, but with everything in chaos--’ Grandpa shrugged. ‘The life support system--’ he let his voice trail off. 

‘None of that was your fault.’ 

‘It never is, isn’t it?’ Grandpa’s voice was loud, and Aoi made a shushing sound at him. ‘You and her. Carlos and Maria. And now Quark. None of it was my fault, that’s what you’re saying.’ 

‘You fucking silly fucker.’ Aoi was laughing, but it didn’t sound unkind. He pulled his chair closer to Grandpa’s and grabbed Grandpa’s face between both hands. ‘We all made our own choices. We fail sometimes, is all. Even _she_ fails.’

Grandpa started laughing as well. ‘She always hated failing.’

‘You’ve always been two of a kind,’ said Aoi. 

‘Pot calling kettle.’

Quark relaxed and went back to eating his food. Grandpa and Aoi were silly sometimes.

‘I was supposed to be comforting you,’ Grandpa admitted. ‘It never ends up that way.’

Aoi tilted his head to one side, looking at Grandpa like he did the first time--Quark remembered that: Aoi pulling Grandpa closer, as if to commit every detail of his face to memory. 

‘Because you’re fucking useless without me, that’s why,’ said Aoi, smiling.

Quark thought it was fine if Cid took his time looking for the hair bleach after all. 

Everything was going to be all right.

*


End file.
